rain starts play

strange how odd the familiar becomes when you've left it behind for a while. The utter disconnect between sleeping and waking, confronted by father sky in all his unbridled passions, thunder crashing around the windows as though to ravish me in my sleep. Just a thunder storm, waking me in the dead of night, prickling skin and disquieting my bones. Thrilled and disturbed, an edge carved on my emotions that wasn't washed away with the morning's well-wrung skies. Leaving me raw and flayed for the day's journeys into paths at once familiar and entirely new. Unsettled. Rattled in my soul.

We don't have storms like this in Dubai. I miss them.

It has been raining nearly every day since then, thunder and lightning offering music to dance to, my child clamouring to go outside to play in the rain, as sky drenched and wrinkle pruny happens not at all where we live, scoured by sand and a sun in thrall to itself.

My son teaches me things i'd forgotten I'd ever known, like the unbridled joy of walking through a rainstorm, not caring for clothes or appointments or appearances.

I picture my lady friends in Dubai playing in this rain.