Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Yesterday I rode my bike through the rain, peddling fast to get home, then slowing down, finding myself unusually happy. I smiled, laughed, shouted in the rain. Soaking and silly. My dear bike and I. So happy. So alive. These rainy days are so unusual. Filled with a nostalgic memory that is uncatchable. I remember it like an old friend. The sun, the rain, old friends, old cronies. I have a feeling that they feel it is good to see me, as I feel it is good to see them. Perhaps I make them feel alive as I dance or bask in their beauty. Perhaps I'm just encouraging them to do their worst, the mischiefmakers. Like children. I was beginning to dry out. Only the rain could quench that dryness. That missing piece. I'm like the dry dirt on the ground, watching the clouds with hope, with anticipation, thirsty and crying to be filled. I am the dirt, the dirt is me.