Dear Graham,
This afternoon, we took a walk just before a storm. To the east, the sky was filled with heavy black clouds that looked as though they might burst open at any moment. To the west, the sky was clearer, and our instinct was to begin our walk in that direction.
The air was surprisingly cool, brushed by a refreshing breeze. Along the broad horizon, we could see a dark gray curtain of rain pouring from the sky to the sea. Out on the water, a sailboat glided across the horizon, its bright red spinnaker billowing like a great parachute filled with wind. Running before the wind, it moved with astonishing speed. We watched as it sailed from clear skies into the curtain of rain and then emerged once again into sunlight. It was heading north toward Las Tablas. Sailboats are not common in the waters off Destiladeros, so whenever I see one, it feels special.
The tide was rushing in, and the waves were growing larger and more restless. We came to the spot just before the bend where the water meets the rocks and blocks the way through. There, we turned and began walking east. The air cooled even more. Truly, it could not have been more than seventy degrees Fahrenheit—a rare tropical blessing.
We walked down the beach past the great red-orange rock and toward the stretch of sand where the surfers gather at six in the morning. None of the boys were there this afternoon. They knew the storm was coming long before we did.
As we turned toward home, we felt a gentle rain begin to tap against our arms and legs. I wore my giant straw hat, which served as a small umbrella beneath the gathering clouds. By the time we reached the swimming pool, the raindrops were tickling its surface, drawing countless silver circles that appeared and vanished in an instant.
When we arrived home, we settled into the big wooden chairs on the back porch and watched the rain pour from the sky. It fell through the palms and hibiscus trees and onto the hot-pink flowering bush I love, though I still do not know its name. The storm was magnificent.
I remembered a song sung by Celeste Krenz, “What I Love About the Rain”:
“I love the rain. I love the way it falls on everything, and pushes rivers to the sea to fall a new…”
Water cascaded from the rooftop into the garden below and splashed against the pillars, sending cool droplets onto our ankles and legs. There is something sacred about rain. I love the way it falls upon the earth and turns everything emerald green. I love the music it makes on the tile roof and on the giant leaves of the trees. I love the way it washes over the world like a great cleansing shower—rinsing the trees, the ground, the sky, the roads, and the walkways.
Rain seems to remind the earth of its own beauty.
And Graham, I love the rain and I love you.
With love,
CC
