The end of April and beginning of May is a never-ending amalgamation of rain here…but, of course, it’s not just rain. To call it that would be to give the wrong impression. Every day since about…April 19…has held something like a torrential downpour. There have been creeks brimming, rivers crawling up out of their banks…
Folks, it’s been a wet one.
Similarly, something small and mournful and wrong sits within me about chest-height, welling up and threatening to come out. I’m not sure why I’m afflicted with such melancholia lately. The most stressful parts of work are behind me: I have 8 days left with the seniors and 15 with everyone else. Yet something persists. I don’t know what it is. I don’t know what to call it. I can’t give it away.
The rains are rolling back in this evening. My window’s open.
Whatever is coming can come.