Rain and My Cluttered Brain

I woke up this morning to subtle rain, not the sort that wakes you in the beautiful way an early morning downpour would. It’s a soft rain, not noticeable until I walk over to the window and pull it open. Rain is running over the round bodies of mangoes hanging low on branches, tapping at blades of grass, glistening on the pavement. The birds twitter in hushed tones waiting for worms to make their way northward. Daisy the cat sits on the windowsill, sleep heavy in her eyes, tail slowly swaying. I like the rain. I think it’s lovely.  I love the calm that settles.

Today, though, is not a good day for peace. It’s not a good day for quiet. Today my to-do list is packed and so is my brain. I need the birds screeching and the winds howling. I need the cat scratching to get out. I need to take my thoughts and strap them down. I need them to be a good class and line up single file and speak one at a time. I need them to stop talking over each other, stop seeking to be first and get the last word. I need them to do their work and stop asking questions like what if this and how do you do that again. I need them to stop saying they forgot their homework.

The rain is gentle and quiet outside, inside my mind is a storm stinging me with don’t forget this and make sure you add that.

I’ve made my way to my favorite coffee shop. I’ve forgotten my wallet. Someone nearby has ordered tea, and I’m watching the steam rise from his cup. I want to do everything except what I need to do. I want to watch old movies and write for pleasure. Tomorrow I’ll write for pleasure. I’ll write something fresh and new, something wild and insightful. Today, right now, ughhhh. Have a lovely day everyone.