Rain
[I meant to write about this experience in Brazil a while back but forgot, and it just came back to me again the other day.]
The heat and humidity are oppressive. I feel smothered by a thick, damp blanket, pressed to the earth by a heavy, enclosing hand. It’s too hot to move or even breathe, and the flat, grey clouds muffle any breeze. Even thought slows as I sit and stare.
Suddenly, there’s a basso rumble, felt more than heard. Surely it can’t be thunder? Then another low drum roll, closer now, and bringing with it a breath of wind like an exhalation, stirring the leaves. I stand up, willing the storm closer, knowing now why people used to dance to bring the rains. Come here, Storm, don’t pass us by. The pressure is immense as the storm builds, the wind lifting and tossing the tops of trees, everything is dancing wordlessly now—-Rain, come.
The wind stops abruptly and the giant’s hand is lifted. Fat, ripe, juicy raindrops explode on hot parched skin, detonating shivers of pleasure, waves of delicious coolness. I stand in the open, face turned to the sky, eyes closed, smiling, opening like a flower.
