There’s a saying, I’m not sure if you heard of it. It goes, “the devil is beating his wife.” For some, it can be a rainstorm suddenly appearing when the sun is out. For others, it’s when the sun appears to push the thunderclouds away while the rain still falls. Basically, anytime you see the sun shining bright during a rain storm, the devil is beating his wife. Now, I’m not sure what domestic abuse of biblical proportions had to do with it, but the phenomenon itself is beautiful. Clear raindrops refracting the glaring bright sun covering everything in a crispy iridescence. A sunny day layered with a rainy one. It is multidimensional. It is proof that duality, even of the most extreme can coexist.
It makes you feel otherworldly. Everything shimmers like the rainbow on an oil slick, tingles like crystals of a chandelier. You barely can feel the rain hit your skin, almost perfectly warmed to the temperature of your body. You want to press your toes in the good kind of thick mud and reach out for the thing in the in-between of those two realms to confront, to covet, to be comforted.
And there’s no coincidence that in our journey to understand our complex feelings, we found our sadness to be synonymous with storms. So, the idea that something could breech the rolling clouds and that something could come along with a rejuvenating brightness to show that there is beauty in that storm. Out of nowhere, you appeared. You were my sun. You warmed the rain until it poured as hot as tears. You made your light dance in the drops as they fell to the earth. Deep in the storm, I felt the cold leave my bones from the power of your rays. For the first time in a long time, I could see the road in the rain. But, at the end of the day it’s still raining, the road is still slick, the devil’s wife is still crying.
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