When the rain has finally stopped, and the clouds begin to part, the sun peeks out between them. It’s cautious. The sun slowly comes back as if waiting just long enough to be fully wanted, to be appreciated again. It gets one’s hopes up.
“Come out just a little more, Sun,” I want to say. But it’s as if the sun wants me to have to wait a little longer. Be just a little patient. The rain, you see, reminds me to miss the sun, to love it just a little bit more while it’s out.
The sun finally comes out fully. It beams down. The earth warms, the water glistens. The stone heats up and dries out. The world feels lighter. The humidity dissipates. I rush out, under the clear blue sky. “I’ll never take you for granted again, sun.” I think. But I’m not being honest, and the sun knows that. There will always be times when I’m done with the sun. There will always be times when I’d rather have the dreary, rainy gloom.
And I hope, with all my heart, the sun will be there, lurking, peeking for when I’m ready to see it again.