Flash Flood

Vibrant blue speckled with bursts of white, the look of the sky was unassuming. The chill in the air suggested otherwise. It wasn’t a normal cold — one of a dragging winter — but one of ominousness. The sting bypassed the skin and went straight to the bone. There was honesty in the air, as the clarity of the horizon was just an illusion. The sun vanished as darkness consumed the day. Thunder was all to be heard, lightning the only luminary allowed, as rain poured incessantly.

Torrential is an understatement, as the downpour was outright stubborn. There is no arguing with the clouds. Skyward shouts fade before they are able to be heard by no one. This is a one-way conversation.

“I am here to cleanse you, lest you prefer to drown.”

With no end in sight, all we could do is embrace the rain. Water levels rising higher and higher, the floods were here to free us from our lives. To free us from ourselves.

Even more quickly than the storm had swooped in, it vanished. Golden rays cracked grays, bleeding sunlight back into our existence. All that was left were remnants of what we never truly wanted. Many began to pick up what little was left, hoping to reclaim what they had worked to build. Surely, the effort to start again could not be worth building anew. Alas, it was that which I was hoping for all along.

The drought had ended in spectacular fashion, conservation be damned. That which we saved is now moot. That which destroyed us is our savior. Trudging through the mud which used to be, I forged forward toward what is. As I walked, I kept my gaze toward the sky, chasing the clouds to where we were needed next.