I love the pull of rainy nights.
Somehow they make my favorite pajamma pants a little softer. My comforter a little comfier. The candles a little brighter.
More than the damp and the dark–it’s the sounds that get me.
The varied vibrations. Echoes. Changing speeds. The accompaniment of whispering winds and whizzing tires.
There’s a peace inside nights like these.
A peace that just a few months ago, I believed was mocking me:
It’s miserable out. Traffic was brutal. You wasted two hours getting home, so make up for it now. Get something done. Don’t use the rain as an excuse to read. To watch a movie. To pull in an extra hour of sleep. Loser.
It’s no wonder that I used to wake up sore and tired. I beat my thoughts (myself) into submission over and over again.
Now, all that beats are the heavy drops against the roof that I’m so grateful no longer leaks.
And our hearts, of course. Our bright and open hearts. Those keep beating, too.