Today, there is rain.
And the most beautiful peace.

Today, there is rain.
And the most beautiful peace.
Shall I sing to you only of sun shiny days?
I cannot.
The clouds are grey over the meadow
and the rain falls fat and cold
upon the emerald green.
I will not tell you the sun is shining.
It is not.
The day is grey.
It is grey, and it is beautiful.
So incredibly beautiful, you see.
Rainy days,
come find me sweet.
Spill your goodness
into the arms of the day,
until the sun shines on the fields
once more.
The skies opened and the earth looked up.
‘My friend,’ said the dry earth, ‘is trying to drown me.’
Days passed.
The sky shone golden orange and the grass mounds of the south glistened, abundant in emerald foliage.
The earth looked to the sky, once more.
Changed.
We’re heading into winter in Australia, and I’m feeling the resistance rising already.
I’ve come to dread winter for the internal obstacles it brings. Sunny days charge my batteries and fill my joy pots to a state of ‘just so’, and yet here comes winter to tear my joy pots apart once more.
The problem lies not only in the darkness that will inevitably replace the beautiful streams of sunlight that flood my lounge room, daily, but also the lack of choice that will come attached to the forthcoming rainy days. So, kids. I guess it’s a stay inside again, kind of day, today. That sort of thing.
My children are three and six years old. And I have been in training to be their Mum my whole life because, essentially, I’ve done it all before, being the much older sibling to my two brothers and sister (now adults, where does time go? I’ll always be amazed.)
The thing is: winter makes me feel as though I might not be as wonderful at this ‘Mum thing’ as I always dreamed I’d be. Winter melts me into a bit of a tizz, to put it lightly, because the truth is: there are only so many hours of yes in my Mum tank to keep these little ones (and myself) happy in the face of a rainy day.
And so I’m really quite frightened at what’s to come. Especially this winter, now that I don’t have a partner in crime to lighten the load every second week when the children are with me.
The bright side of this admission is this— I am doing an excellent job at being human. I am seeing the reality of my limitations and admit that I just may need a little bit of extra help this time around.
I’m tired. I’m so tired of lying to myself, pretending that the things, situations, people, scenarios that I’m not entirely okay with…are all sunshine and rainbows. They are not. Dark clouds have existed since the beginning of time. They do not disappear simply because I insist upon looking to the sky and telling everyone around me that they are white.
I wish I wasn’t dreading winter. I wish I wasn’t sometimes afraid that I might break my children—the latter is something I am particularly scared of. My Mum was diagnosed with Bi-Polar disorder in my early teenage years, and I am still trying to pick up all the pieces of her broken within me.
I do know I will be okay, and I do know my beautiful babies will be okay, too. I am a beautiful Mother (if I don’t say so myself) and I don’t need a sunny day to tell me the love I bring to my babies’ lives is filling their spirits with all the lovely things.
Winter is the mountain that lay ahead of me. But this awareness is, at least, a good thing because it gives me time to gather my climbing tools and prepare for the climb. Life can be so hard, sometimes, but there has never been a day of it that has not been worth the struggle.
Because I am me, and I am Mum.
How beautiful to be able to hold those titles with such love, and pride, and grace.
Today
there is a deep sadness in the rain.
I feel it in my belly,
and I ask it to be kind
to those who feel the pain of the sky
when it cries.
Because rain was always meant to be magic.
Now do you remember?
The Sun once told me not to run from the rain.
It told me to seek it.
To cherish it.
To never forget that, without the rain,
beauty misses out on its chance to grow.
Now, when the rain comes, I get my coat.
And I sit.
And I wait.
I wait until I am certain
that happily ever after
has begun again.
Maybe
this whole time
instead of running away from the rain
we should have been running into it
asking it questions,
like:
‘If you can feed the green under my feet—
what is it, rain, that you can do for me?’
I’m not really okay, today.
And yesterday—
I wasn’t really okay then, either.
Yesterday, there were tears.
Feelings.
And yesterday I couldn’t see the sky, anymore.
Maybe it’s hormones.
Or the rain.
Or maybe it’s just my broken bits screeching
Reminding me
That I am only human.
Or something like it, anyway.
So.
For a day. Or two. Or three
I’ll probably still be this.
A little bit lost.
A little bit bamboozled.
A little bit wondering…
‘When will this tenderness seep back into my bones?’
Yesterday I searched for a place to hide.
A place to feel safe.
But today, I’m just here
Feeling the ache and letting it…be.
Because what else is there to do?
This is life, after all.
And life is exactly what I’ve come here to do.