It rained last night, real rain, not fog-induced mist, for the first time since I've lived here. Around 3:34am, as I was rocking a terribly uncomfortable baby boy, I closed my eyes and listened to it, not realizing I had missed that sound until that very moment.
I wondered what it looked like falling in the ocean.
And pictured each drop hitting the window sill, hoping it's rhythm would help calm Bennett.
And I thought about things I miss about home: family and friends, the leaves turning colors, and big, powerful, afternoon thunderstorms.
But I also thought about all that my boys are going to experience out here, places and people that would have otherwise never been in their lives. (And felt grateful that the rain won't keep us in doors too much. And I will never have to deal with cold noses or super stiff and uncomfortable winter coats.)
And then I thought,
it is way too late/early to be thinking this much. So I just kept rocking, thankful for the rain, and a little baby boy who was finally starting to relax again.
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The Vintage Apple
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