First came a long dry sunny spell. I got used to warm mornings the kind where I walked, the sun shining on my face, as I listened to the world waking up. It was hypnotic and lulled me into a sense of security, a belief that this was the way it would always be.
Then the wind changed, the sky started to darken, the lowering clouds signaled the arrival of a storm. That’s OK we could use the rain I thought, never considering the possibility that there was no guarantee that the sun would ever come out again. I always believed these things just take care of themselves, certainly nothing I do would have any effect. I pull my raincoat tighter around me and just continue walking. I’m not concerned, the sun always comes out.
Then, what was that, thunder? The storm grows in intensity, the lightening blazes the thunder rolls and the rain in torrents finally grinds my forward progress to a halt. It’s time to admit that stopping is prudent, I look around to find refuge from the rain, a sanctuary to wait out the storm. I’m scared for my safety at the violence of the storm. I begin to doubt the decisions I’ve made that have put me in this position. It would be calm and sunny if I had just stayed where I was.
The storm finally abates, breaks begin to appear and eventually a little sun breaks through, the skies lighten and the promise of warm days return.
The trouble with those warm days of summertime are the thunderstorms that they birth, the gentle steady rain is replaced by short lived raging winds, pouring rain, thunder and lightening. They pass quickly but threaten destruction each time. A storm, a respite, another storm another break followed by another wave of storms. Stopping and reemerging becomes the way of life, progress slows but the first priority has to become survival.
I’m slowly learning the signs of the oncoming disruption and violence, and the need to seek shelter before the storm arrives. Living with the changeable weather requires a different strategy than living in a world that is always sunny.