I’m posting this from bed via the wordpress iPhone app so we’ll see how that goes when I come back to read this in the morning.

It’s raining. I love the rain. It’s for all the usual reasons – the constant gentle tap on the glass that makes you grateful to be warm and indoors, the silence that holds itself around each drop, the forgiveness you can allow yourself for all of the things left undone.

But there’s more than that. In a place like San Diego, the rain is a rare thing. So when I lay in bed, listening, it’s a more active kind. I almost want to hear every drop so that it’ll be held in my memory on the sunny days, the foggy mornings, the mild, dry nights.

You see, the rain was a more constant thing growing up. To the point that it became framed in such a way as to be a nuisance. But as the desert sucked away that pretense, so too did it take with it that feeling of home. You might be able to guess what’s been on my mind lately.

I spent the day in the desert. I’m spending my night in the rain.

I’ll write about the trip to the desert sometime soon. In the meantime, I hope you can find your home either in the patter of the drops or that silence between.