You are currently browsing the daily archive for June 9th, 2009.
June is a volatile month in these parts. It’s caught up in that transition from the calm of spring to the torrid heat of summer, and there’s a real resistance there. Other seasons seem to slide effortlessly into one another—shoes become boots, sweaters need and then lose coats almost without incident. Something about the summer won’t give so easily. It’s cracks of lightening, claps of thunder at 4am; sticky humidity that just screams to be broken. Winds and hail; torrential downpours drenching even the most conscious umbrella-carrier. Pant legs soaked up and down the district line, without much semblance of a warning. Sunburned weekends yield to severe weather alert Mondays, and what looked like a gentle rain quickly proves anything but.
No amount of water is impenetrable, however. No storm takes everything. It’s all a part of the passing of days; it’s the getting from here to there. Each puddle a stepping stone, each splash a reminder of something better. Back when summer rain meant dancing down the sidewalks, and muddied clothes that can be washed, after all; back when droplets on the skin were comforting. Back when they felt like home.
And when the rains leave, when the thunder fades to clouds that roll out as quickly as they rolled in, it’s magic. The sky opens, and the sun comes out. Blue beneath the grey turns to pink, then red; slipping beneath the surrogate horizon of buildings and towered homes, a promise of tomorrow.
Alexandria, tonight, from this living room. Perfect.
