buckets of rain

Buckets of rain…. buckets of moon beams in my hands.

The rain is so loud that it wakes me up every couple of hours, it’s incredible. I haven’t lived here long enough to not like it. I’m still awed by it. How there can be so much in one sky. It makes me quiet & want to curl up inside and eat brownie sundaes for dinner –so I do.

The rain also makes me miss things I once had so close to me. I’ve been cupping these memories up in my palms and taking them with me wherever I go. It helps to have this magic to hold to even if only I know I have it.

My father just started contra dancing. I am 3,500 miles away from my family and I miss them. I have spent the last 26-years taking for granted  that I could meet my dad for chicken tikka masala within a 30-minute drive. You really can’t know what you got til it’s gone.

Today I do not have that option. Over the phone he tells me he started contra dancing; Picturing this dancing my heart begins to fill. No sum of money, job or vacation in the world could fill me like this image.

I sit there on the phone with him and picture him dancing. I picture him smiling the way he does in his old age still looking like a kid and skipping around as if dancing was something he did.  I get to take that image with me through my days here. That image makes my life make sense.

As I stand in some lobby waiting to have another interview. As I make these phone calls and re-send emails. As I wonder what’s next. As I am tugged to type this for some reason down. I also smile at how lucky I am to be a part of this.

When it gets hard we have these snap-shots to carry with us as we move and try and change and try again. As I pick myself up again.

I can carry you all with me.

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