Sanguine

We've only been here for four days and I'm already fed up with the weather. This is irrational and unfair of me- I spent the past four years being endlessly frustrated with Arizona's seemingly relentless sunny skies. I guess I just thought as soon as we got here I'd have the opportunity to let my kid play outside in the sunshine without having to worry about heat stroke or dehydration. Alas, it's been nothing but a cold rain.

I'm looking forward, far forward, to the late spring and summer, when we can splash in the river and pick the blueberries, raspberries and strawberries that grow wild in the woods behind the house and along the banks of the quarry pond. I want to string a hammock up between the two old pine trees and read books while Ro kicks a ball around, I want to wash my bedding and hang it on the line in the breeze and the sun and fall asleep that night with the smell of the wind infused into the crisp cotton quilts.

I'm eager to throw open the windows and let the linen curtains flap in our new bedroom, filled with the scent of fresh lilac flowers, but for now the windows are closed and locked and the rain is still coming down, and it's still cold and I'm still a little disappointed.

But then I remind myself that it's getting into the nineties during the day back in Arizona, the skies are blue, the clouds are fluffy and everything is perfect. I realize this moody rain and swollen river is everything I wanted for the past four years. And that's the truth.