Rainy Summer.

It rained almost everyday that summer. It suited our hearts; it suited the whole year. The chaos of politics and the drama of new liberal movements seemed to devastate our memory of what had happened that year. The rain had captured the very mood that all had tried to escape through the theory of a wonderful, relaxing summer. It never fails to amaze me as I observe the importance of weather and its ability to so powerfully and undoubtedly affect an entire population's temper. Everyone suffered from some sort of pain--unequal to anything they had ever experienced in their lives. Everyone around me was suffering. I felt detached, yet not oblivious. I observed with neutrality; avoiding my natural instinct to incline my own mood by feeling compassion and sympathy for theirs. I enjoyed my general isolation from all their emotions. I knew of it--yet I ignored it. I did my best to avoid deepening discussions of how dreadful the world has become, how dark the skies have been for us all; the very same discussions that I used to long for. I used to long to be heard and to be believed. I used to long to Not Be Alone. And yet, no one is ever truly alone. In a world of billions of people, how can anyone ever be alone? How can any experience be solitary and completely unheard of? It is impossible. But yes, I was alone that summer, ignorant by choice of all the mischief of my surroundings. I was alone in heart, in mind and in grace..but in most of all, satisfaction. The hounding rain and exhilarating thunderstorms were terrific beyond belief. They excited my very being to a point of pure entertainment. You see--it is not the weather that so justiably controls our temperate moods, but it is our interpretation of the weather. And so, it rained almost everyday that summer. It was a beautiful sight, really.