It’s been raining a lot here in Atlanta the last few days, and it looks like we’re going to get more rain through the weekend and into next week. Having lived through a couple of droughts since we moved here 30 years ago, I’ve learned to see rain as a gift from God. Not that it’s always especially well-timed, though.
Today, for example. I had my last official therapy appointment with my lymphedema specialist. It rained pretty much nonstop until we left for the appointment, and by the time we got there it was overcast and threatening but not raining. When my appointment was over, Mary and I went to lunch, and it was bright enough to need sunglasses. When we came out of the restaurant, the clouds were starting to look dark and threatening again, but Mary decided to go to the store and pick up a couple of things.
I no longer accompany her into the store, because my knees are bad, so when I go with her she leaves me in the car, kind of like a dog. (I have to promise her I won’t bark at anyone.) Before going in, she opened the windows so I wouldn’t suffocate (Mary is thoughtful that way), and walked into the store. And it started to pour. The rain came in through the open windows and I got soaked, because she didn’t leave me the keys to turn the car on so I could close the windows. So I just had to sit there and get wet.
Naturally, when she got back, the rain had stopped.