Thursday, September 11, 2008


It almost rained today.

When I came out of Elementary Spanish (doce más cuarenta y tres son cincuenta y cinco), the wind was blowing all the palm fronds, coming from the Southeast at a good clip. The sky was dark off in that direction, storm clouds were threatening.

Aside from a few sprinkles on the windshield--just enough to make the dust stick--it didn't rain.

Of course.

This is the desert.

But I'm sort of surprised at how often it almost rains.

And when it does almost rain, it stirs something in all of us. Or at least, it stirs something in me.

I see myself drenched, arms outstretched, face upwards, eyes closed, mouth open, peels of thunder, flashes of lightning.

It's almost rained a few times since I've been here. But only almost.

I suppose I'll have to make due with Almost.

It almost rained today.

We almost had a real downpour.

Almost cats and dogs.

Almost coming down in buckets.

Almost ten inches in twenty minutes.

Almost flooding half the valley.



Anonymous said...

Actually, the train wreck in Chatsworth today is another of those smaller reminders, like probably millions of tiny ones every day, that tell people to re-examine what they have. But you sound good, Drew. And you may discover that the happier and busier you are, the less you time you have and the less need you have to write here.

'bastian said...

Heh, almost rained is classic California, SIR.

And that is almost a good thing. ;)