Friday, July 28, 2006

Greener Valleys

A rainy evening. The thunder and downpour erupted over Davis Square as I left 'Orleans' grill to head for my bus. Dozens of commuters huddled under the safety of the station and busway roofs, cell phones blazing in an effort to rustle up rides home through the squall. I found my roommate on the bus and we rode home, amused by the storm. When we crossed the street after disembarking, the rain flooding the gutters rushed my ankles with such force it swept away one of my flip-flops and I had to chase it a few yards down Winthrop Street.

Things flood us from time to time.

Now we sit in the darkened living room, purple-gray evening outside, and white-gray electronic glow inside. My roommate is watching War of the Worlds and I am catching up with far-flung people.

When some of the things currently swirling around my head and heart are resolved, I will encourage you to revisit this blog entry. I feel an aching in my chest right now that matches the sweltering night--sheets and desk and wood floors hot to the touch, but the tones and colors of the night all shades of cool. My inner turmoil mirrors that. Hot and cold is just the surface.

There's news of cancer, breakdown, a breakup, betrayal, moving, seeking, financial strain, interpersonal strain, heartsickness, a fuzzy haze, powder, prayer, departures to foreign lands, and desperate attempts to stick around...and those are just the ones I am allowed to write about. There are so many people's stories who are not mine to tell. But we flow into each other, don't we?

I promise it will make more sense when I can detail it all, after I can process it all. Today I watch the rain flood my neighborhood and my world and I think about us all under a sky that at any time can pour itself upon us with no thought to what we need. Or what we heed, come to think of it.

What it is, is, we find people in this world in a variety of ways. We connect to them through the great tapestry in a variety of ways, and sometimes we find them later, much later, when we didn't know they were coming. Other times we find them too early, and we're not ready, or we don't think we're ready. Who can be ready for a storm like this, though?

And then at the end of it all life, squelched for a time, can breathe, replenished, rejuvenated.

Meanwhile, my Indigo Girls run through my head:

"I'm heading back to the flatlands, and you're heading up to the hills
The rain brings you home in the middle of July.
I guess I just got lonesome, when I think about how you feel,
with six months gone and no one to dry your eyes.
I said nuevas senoritas, are you gone to brighter days?
Have you found your greener valleys?
and the place where your heart lays?"

-- amy ray, 'nuevas senoritas'

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