Yearning for Rain

 As we drove back from the reservoir on Sunday, having stretched our impromptu get-away weekend drive as far as we could, until the paved road ended in the campground along the lake, the sky grew partly cloudy and then, surprisingly, despite the sunshine, drops of rain began hitting the windshield.

The were sporadic and meager, like small animal prints on the glass, and we had to double check that indeed they were raindrops. 

How we yearned for a good rain. It had been a long time since a good soaking, and even longer since a true monsoon. We barely got any the last few years, after having a substantial one the year we arrived. On that drive there would be no such heavy downpour, only a freshness of the smell of it penetrating the dry air, and the promise that someday the rains would return.

It's hard not to feel privileged living here, that things were relatively normal during most of the shutdown, and now things are moving back towards something feeling normal. Moreover there is a sense that we are. not going to fooled again by the people who fooled us before. There is revolt in the air.

At home in my desk, I dream of escape. But there is nowhere to go. There is a reason people are pouring into this place, despite the escalating prices. It is the sense that America is making a stand here. 

Even more surprising, there are things happens in regard to the events of November 2020 concerning specific things that put Maricopa County in the spotlight. I have to follow the underground channels on Youtube to keep up to date. The people there actually follow things.

The daily struggle is to keep up one's personal spirits despite the drag of all the media right now trying to take us down into their abyss of hate and loathing. Even without them directly, I feel their influence second and third hand.