Oh, my. It’s storming outside the window. Rain is pummeling the roof, spattering against the window-glass, driven by the wind. It’s hitting the ground so hard it’s bouncing back up three feet into the air, creating a waist-level mist. Tree branches drip and sway. Everything is moving in the storm, reveling in the much-needed water.
Later, I’m taking my uncle to his physical therapy appointment. For the first time in a year we’ll be driving in the rain, parking in the rain, being dampened as we trot into the building. Oh, how good this will feel!
And, unbelievably, my rheuma-dragon is quiet. My always-swollen knuckles are still swollen, but they’re not painful. A gift, this is. Just like the rain.