I was right there with you at the window. For me, it is thunder storms with night erasing lightning. I can't help it. I must watch, waiting for the flash of light, counting the seconds until the thunder cracks, telling me how close the strike was. Mom taught me that and I remember her in the midst of every storm.
My connection with my Dad is all about fog. He shared an intimacy with the softness and hidden nature of fog, feeling invisible yet seen. To this day, I find my thoughts closer to memories of him in fog, and I love it still. Lovely essay about your father and rain.
Beautiful essay. Brought me a lovely memory.
I was right there with you at the window. For me, it is thunder storms with night erasing lightning. I can't help it. I must watch, waiting for the flash of light, counting the seconds until the thunder cracks, telling me how close the strike was. Mom taught me that and I remember her in the midst of every storm.
Oh the rain.
Precious memories. The rain has a way of reckoning. ❤️
My connection with my Dad is all about fog. He shared an intimacy with the softness and hidden nature of fog, feeling invisible yet seen. To this day, I find my thoughts closer to memories of him in fog, and I love it still. Lovely essay about your father and rain.
Rain, inspiring in so many ways on so many levels. This essay is a better tribute to a father than anything I have ever read on the subject.