I'm awake. Listening to the sounds of a thunderstorm roll through the area. Lightening bolts dare to penetrate through my room-darkening shades, and I pause, "One, one thousand, two, one thousand, three..." until a thunder strike halts my counting.
The thunder is loud enough to feel the rumble shake the walls; yet, it is soft enough to not wake those already slumbering. I listen to the steady sound of the rain as it beats upon every fiber of this house, and I get lost in the sound of the waters as they wash the earth. A part of me longs to dance in the puddles that are forming everywhere in my backyard, splashing through them without a care in the world.
I long to be a part of this cleansing storm... to have the nighttime worries of my world dissolve with each raindrop. To be able to scream with each thunder strike, raging against the internal emotional tide while I rage with the storm. What a cathartic night this would be! ("What a crazy neighbor!", they would say.)
As I watch the rain run down the glass of my window, it seems like the house is crying for me; and I join in a chorus of tears that feel unending. With each lightening bolt, the world is illuminated in a cacophony of raindrops; like a billion tiny stars shining all around me.
I cry until I cannot tell where the rain begins and my tears end.
It's never too late for you to change your life.
It's never too late to be who you might have been.
It's never too late to reach for what you want!
Reach! You can! You can! Actually, I can!
With dizzying speed, the Voice in my head is running at full throttle this evening. Always reminding me of the possibilities of life; always seeking answers I don't know if I have, I don't know I can find. Perhaps if the Voice has a chance to run through its full repertoire this evening, it will shut down for a reboot, and give this broad a chance to breathe (and perhaps a chance to sleep?).
Ooooohhh ooooh, remember when it rained? I playback Josh Groban's Remember When It Rained in my mind's internal stereo system, and I am immediately lost in the soundtrack of my life. My tears subside for now, and the storm within me begins to calm - I can still hear the storm outside continue in its quest for meteorological recognition.
Some people may even say its noisy, nighttime show was trumpeting the arrival of the next season. Perhaps my internal storm is heralding the arrival of a new phase in my life...
We shall see what springs forth this new season.