It's been hot here, as it has in many places this week. The heat seemed to reach its high yesterday, with temperature readings above 100 and the heat index even higher.
The rain is scarce. The grass is browning and any water that gets to it via sprinklers is quickly soaked up by the soil or evaporated by the ever present scorching sun.
When the house was unusually dark this morning and a look outside revealed grey, heavy clouds I smiled. We needed rain. I stood over the sink putting away dishes and looking out through the open window as small drops formed a polka-dot pattern on the sidewalk. Soon, it was a storm. Thunder rumbled in the distance, the familiar plink-plink-plink of raindrops hitting the house filled my ears. I closed my eyes to listen to the symphony.
I miss Southern storms, especially the lullaby of rain on the metal roof of the trailer in which I grew up. I miss the hot humid nights that are often lit up by the lightning flashing across the sky long before the rain made it to us.
The storm here today was short. By the time I had my coffee in hand and was sitting at my desk to work on a project, the sound of the rain was already slowly drifting away. It left behind cooler air and my window remained open. The quiet peace of the rain was replaced with the normal sounds of my urban life. A jackhammer tore up concrete somewhere. The wind blew and brought with it the sound of the train announcing it's next stop. The wheels of cars and bikes make distinct noises on the street outside of my house. I enjoyed the short peaceful rain, but this is my new symphony.
I wonder what chorus of noises awaits me in my next home. I wonder if I'll miss the beeps and dings of the train, the ever-present road noise, the various sounds of evidence of this thriving community in which I live.