I sit in my car and wait, and as I sit I watch the rain come down.
One of the first rains of the season.
Drop after drop hits my parked car and I listen to each sound as it echoes on the roof.
I sit there and I think.
And my mind hears each splashing raindrop of the season we are in.
A life is lost, violence rises, and friends buckle under the weight of crisis.
Addiction wins, hope seems far, and the darkness hovers just outside the doorway.
Icy raindrops hit my soul, and I shiver.
The cold seeps in when it’s all falling down around my ears, and the sun has fled.
Windy rains are sweeping through the city and dryness and warmth seem so far off.
The rain is not stopping today, so I reach for the door, one hand on my umbrella.
I step out of the car and sink in to the cold stream of water running down the street.
But I walk down that street anyway.
The rainy season has come, but it is only a season.