Rainy Sundays...

It's raining. At 11:34 AM on a Sunday. In September.


Where? You can figure that out for yourself.



The rain falls light, pattering against the panes of glass without too much urgency. No, rather, the rain simply blurs everything outside. Inside, you can see. Outside, you cannot. Will you traverse into the unknown?
 Go, put on your coat. Something simple. Grab your umbrella, or pull over your hood, or slap on your fedora, whatever you prefer. Or if you don't prefer anything, no matter. Slip on your sunglasses; the sun isn't shining but the light you've got directed at you might make it hard to even walk without them.
 Head toward the door, and leave the people behind.
Go out into the rainy streets and spend a little time with your thoughts. You've spent so much time doing it, I know, but now...it's raining.
It's raining on Sunday.
Sanctuary, it isn't where you've been looking and it isn't in the place you used to go.
You spot it as you walk down the street, and you stop.
For a moment, you reconsider.
For a moment, you wonder if you really want anything to do with anyone anymore.
But you do. You stay far in the background; partly out of fear, partly because of that light, and partly from shame. But besides all of this, you listen.




 I wrote this while over at our neighbors house, watching their dog. It was late at night, we were planning on sleeping over (yes, they said we could do this), so while watching television, I wrote on my computer. This is what came out of it. I was somewhat dreaming of the days when it will rain on Sunday. When it rains on Sunday, I always think deeper.

 It's going to rain on Sunday this week...