NaBloWriMo Day 9: Appreciation

For those of you just joining me along this trip, this is day 9 of National Blog Writing Month. I've committed myself (yes, finally, off to the Funny Farm for me 8P) to writing here every single day in the month of October.

Whoa, doggy.

So far, so good and today, I have something worthwhile to say. Before I start, though.... I honestly tried, Tooj, I did, I tried reeeaaaly hard to make this shorter. Nothin' doin'.

First, let me ask you something. What do you really, truly appreciate in nature? What are you thankful for when it happens, truly thankful and pleased that it's occurring? What in nature makes you so very, very happy that you want to dance?

Now let me ask you this. What annoys you about nature? What is something, that when it happens, you moan and groan and think to yourself, "Omg, again?" What makes you want to shake your fist at the world and go crawl back into bed?

If you ask most people in many parts of the world, the answer will be, for both questions, RAIN.
RAIN makes full-grown adults want to dance.... or moan and groan. The difference is in location.

I've seen both sides of it now. I grew up in a world where rain came about once every two months, maybe even once a month if we were lucky... and then during monsoon season, a few times a week. When water is rare, it becomes precious. It becomes something wonderful, something joyous and celebratory. I've seen grown men run outside into the rain and stand there, happy as a clam, because it's beautiful, life-giving water. I've done it too... in fact, I've made it a tradition to go outside on the first monsoon rain of the year, and let myself be utterly drenched in the water falling from the sky (followed by a nice, hot shower inside, lol). I missed out on that this year, because we left not even two weeks before the storms came.

And now we're here... and I hate it. I have never, ever, in my 21 years been so tired of rain. I hate it now. I wake up to the sound of it and put my pillow over my head. I go to sleep to the sound of it and sing to Andrew mostly to drown out the constant drumming sound outside. It's been raining for two days...the water on the roads is so heavy that my poor Zedd sways on the way through and I can barely see. The moments where, were I home, I would be laughing, I'm now grumpy-faced along with everyone else.

Example: I was standing in the entrance of Border's today with a gentleman, watching as it poured sheets and sheets of rain outside. We were joined by a lady, and in Tucson, we would have been giddy with the rain. It would have been some bemused laughing, a little disbelief... but an enjoyable outlook. But not these people, not this time or place. I said, with my usual Arizona-brand amazement, "Wow." and the man next to me glared at me and said, "Yeah. Wow." in the most sour, grumpy voice imaginable. The woman looked outside and said, gruffly, "Ugh, I guess we're waiting, then." Both of them, though, felt like nice people. They looked kind, and friendly, and generally good-natured... but the rain turned them crochety in a split second.

What I'm getting at here is this: people who never see it, who never have that precious gift of water learn to appreciate it when it comes to them. People that have it always see it as an inconvience... but in truth, it is a blessing! It's an amazing thing, and it's under-estimated constantly.

I want to go home. I want to go back to the place where water is seen as a miracle, not a curse. Where people feel rain drops and exclaim with excitement, and take their toddlers outside to dance in the pretty, pretty puddles. I want to go back to being grateful for water falling from the sky, back where I hear thunder as I go to bed at night and feel comforted by the knowledge that my world will be green and fresh by the time I wake up, not soggy (and smelling like a fishtank, because FYI, it does).

In my opinion, one cannot appreciate fully that which is always at hand. It's in the absence of a necessity that we truly understand how necessary it is.