Saturday. Sunday. Monday. Tuesday. Rain, rain, rain, rain. Day and night. Light rain, heavy rain, misting rain, dripping rain. Rain.
Rain is necessary for growth, yes. But so is sun. So weary of the rain. Thanksgiving, but willed against the wet grey of the world.
Wednesday dawned. Or at least one had to assume it dawned. Still grey, dreary. But -- hope: no actual rain. A slightly lighter tint to the clouds. A chill wind and the ground still sopping.
Finally, sunlight competing with the rain clouds, visible at last behind them, and spirits lifting a bit. Maybe it wouldn't really rain forever.
Wednesday night, midnight. Almost in bed, but seeing light through the curtain. Pulling it back and there she was -- Phoebe lighting up the cloudless sky and bringing the landscape to life. Reflected light promising the sunlight to come.
Thanksgiving from the heart instead of the will.
And finally Thursday waking to a clear sky, a visible sunrise, the clarity of hope made real.
