Drought
My hometown is smothered with drought; the combination of a meager snowfall last winter and not seeing a drop of rain the entire year has plagued us with water rationing and fire restrictions. The air is hot and dry and sucks any drop of moisture right out of the ground. The trees are dying. The roads are too hot to set foot on. Everyone is praying for rain.
A few days ago, it finally came. The dark clouds rolled in and hammered our little mountain town with wind, and at last, rain. It was a torrential downpour that only lasted about ten minutes, but man, we celebrated.
I stood at the front door, watching as my neighbors ran into the street with glee. The rain came in through the screen door and soaked my jeans. A gust of wind pounded against our house and slammed the water droplets against our windows with loud pelting sounds. Our electricity went out.
Just as quickly as it started, it stopped. And I realized that droughts are droughts, no matter how hard you wish and hope and beg for precipitation.
Sometimes, you have to go find the rain on your own.
A few days ago, it finally came. The dark clouds rolled in and hammered our little mountain town with wind, and at last, rain. It was a torrential downpour that only lasted about ten minutes, but man, we celebrated.
I stood at the front door, watching as my neighbors ran into the street with glee. The rain came in through the screen door and soaked my jeans. A gust of wind pounded against our house and slammed the water droplets against our windows with loud pelting sounds. Our electricity went out.
Just as quickly as it started, it stopped. And I realized that droughts are droughts, no matter how hard you wish and hope and beg for precipitation.
Sometimes, you have to go find the rain on your own.