It’s 8:40 PM. I smell water in the air.
The palm trees are swaying in a breeze that is more than a breeze but not yet a wind. It feels like the atmosphere is getting ready to take a really deep breath before exhaling.
The rain starts falling on my drive home from downtown Phoenix. There are no proper introductions, no polite pitter patter. These are big, kamikaze raindrops hurling themselves into my windshield. My car stereo’s auto-volume turns itself up to compensate for their noisy splats.
At home, my dog greets me with more sincerity than usual. Thunder bothers him and from the looks of his brown eyes he’s been bothered a lot in the last hour. I stop at the fridge to pour a glass of iced tea before finding my seat in the dark theater that is my patio.
It’s time for the storm show.
I sit far enough back to stay dry and far enough out to feel the cool gusts of wind. The canopy of grapevine, long branches hanging full with fruit and wide beautiful leaves make a picturesque frame around the moving pictures of clouds and sheets of rain.
Just to listen. So many sounds within the storm. Big drops pelt the grape leaves then, momentum gone, slowly drip from top to bottom, leaf to leaf like a Slinky moving down a flight of stairs. A roof river waterfall, thunk thunk thunking an empty plastic bucket below. And the incessant din of water hitting concrete.
The backdrop of sky is ever changing. Endless blue and clear just hours ago, it is now gray and hulking. Like a surly fat man in an overcoat in no hurry to move along. Rolling angry clouds filter the lightening which, like an irregular strobe, lights up the dance floor for my rose bushes. Pink and white and coral colored blossoms moving to the music of the storm.
I sit and watch the show thinking it the best I’ve seen in a very, very long time.
My dog is close by. Content to stay because my right hand is stroking his fur. His loyalty keeps him near me, though his back is turned. One eye on me and one eye on his doggie door.
I drink my tea and count the seconds between flash of light and sound of thunder. One thousand one, one thousand two. Then, no chance to count. A lightening bolt strikes all too close. A piercing laser clap I see and feel and sends my dog scrambling into the house. A magnificent display of raw, unbridled killer energy; as if God unplugged His bass guitar before turning off His amp.
The smells.
Of water in the air and wet bark and mud.
The sounds.
Of raindrops and a rumbling sky. Of trees shaking in the wind. The sound of the water is a comfort. It rocks me into a few brief moments of sleep before jostling me awake with far away thunder.
I watch the rain fall and the wind blow knowing this is a one night only engagement. This is the desert. Rain doesn’t play one venue for very long.
As the party moves to the south I walk into the yard, take a deep breath of wet wonderful air and raise my glass to the sky. A toast to the smiling moon peeking through the mist, watching me enjoy this magic moment of monsoon.
“O, Lord, our Lord, how majestic is Your name in all the earth, Who has displayed His splendor above the heavens!” – Psalm 8:1
Todd A. Thompson – May 11, 2006
