I woke up this morning, sat on the wooden stool on the back porch of my house and just watched the rain fall.
It rarely rains in Arizona, outside of monsoon season.
The temperature has dropped to a perfect 57 degrees. Cold water filled my chest as I crunched on a piece of ice.
No sounds but birds chirping and a hum of cars coasting down I-10 echo in the air. The ice clinks against the glass in my hand, makes the tips of my fingers numb.
But I began to realize how rare this moment was. I forgot how rain can quiet the world around us. You stay in bed longer, get to work late and drive slower when it rains.
This go go go feeling I developed from the every day brightness of the sun in Phoenix, finally got to mellow out.
I used to complain about humidity, it always made my hair frizzy. But in Arizona, humidity is a delicacy.
I could feel the pores on my hands and feet delight in the dampness of the air. I kicked the slippers off my feet and let them dangle. It felt like I had stuck my foot into a cool pool on a 108 degree day.
My skin had a thirst and this rain quenched it.
But only for this moment.
The rain will dry up quickly as the day goes on. Soon the roads will look as if no rain fell at all this morning.
So I will enjoy this tranquil moment a little more, while I can.
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