When it rains, sometimes it seems to do more than just pour. The clouds gather, the sky darkens, the winds whip everything into a frenzy. The earth trembles beneath your very feet. And elsewhere in the world you know that things, events, cataclysmic happenings are taking place. Hurricanes are swirling, fires blazing, volcanoes erupting. Hail pummels the earth and waves beat on the shores. Avalanches and mudslides and rockfalls smother everything in their path. And just when you think, logically, statistically that not another disaster could possibly occur, it begins to rain over the wreckage.
Sometimes it is you standing in the downpour, (the seeming apocalypse), and sometimes, you're standing protected by an umbrella, watching the debris fall around you onto someone else.
What a downpour it has been. I have an umbrella and my goulashes and I wait for the next cloud burst to wash away tentative progress. I wade through the waist high water to a friend stranded on a dry patch in the deluge. I sit on this isolated roof top and hold my umbrella over their head, too. It doesn't change the fact that their feet are wet, or that their house is underwater, but at least we're together. Their pieces are shattered in a million billion directions, but I'll look for every last one on every corner of the earth until we've got them all again. It is no trouble. I do it gladly, hoping to alleviate even a little tiny bit of their burden.
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