It’s been five long months since the streets were dry and the city was bathed in sunshine. I don’t know if Mount Rainier still watches over Seattle from the southeast, or if she took off in search of some place that will appreciate her beauty on a more regular basis. How much more caffeine can our city consume? Is it possible to make GORE-TEX stylish? And how much more Vitamin D do I need to swallow to curb my carbohydrate cravings and general malaise?
I was pondering these questions as I woke early this morning, determined to go for a walk despite the heavy cloud layer that threatened more rain. In the ten minutes it took me to get dressed, tie my tennis shoes and walk out the front door, the clouds had descended so low they hugged my lawn. Rain pounded on my roof, bounced off the already saturated earth and pelted my windows.
I slammed the door shut and marched up the stairs to strip off my clothes and pout. I seriously wondered if God had forgotten his promise to never flood the earth again. But then I heard music spill into the hallway from my daughter’s room, and within seconds, my heart gave a little leap. I found myself foot-tapping and singing Chicken Fried by the Zac Brown Band.
I dare you not to smile.