Yesterday, it was supposed to rain. It looked threatening, and all the weather reports warned of dire storms ahead. Flood warnings abounded, and it was supposed to be another soggy day.
And then the sun came out, shoving its way through the clouds without regard to weather forecasts or predictions. In the distance, the gray was streaked and looked waterlogged, but the distance never arrived. It stayed where it was and we stayed where we were, and Sunday wasn’t nearly so bleak after all.
It’s funny the way that things do that, the way that you are certain that they will be one way. Everyone tells you that they will be; everyone accepts it as fact. That is how it is going to be be. The sky and the weatherman say so.
But you can wait for the deluge, and hide from the deluge. And sometimes the deluge never comes.
The truth is that no matter what is happening, no matter what is above us, somewhere, way above the clouds, the sun is shining. We my not see it for a while, which is likely to happen this week around here, but even when we can’t, it’s still up there.
Clouds don’t always mean rain. And even those clouds — whether they’re big, heavy, watery ones or the kind that just take up they sky not doing much of anything at all — don’t hang around forever.
Sometimes the sun itself pushes them out of the way.
Check out my full-length novels, Her Cousin Much Removed, The Great Paradox and the Innies and Outies of Time Management
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