Indeed, some things, like yesterday's rain, have a way of "fumbling at your senses" and suddenly disappear, as if nothing happened at all. It's cruel. It's strange. It's wicked.
I guess calamities are always this way. They ruin your world, test your snapping point, and completely turn you inside and out, while the world goes on mindless about your predicament. Not all calamities come as typhoons. Sometimes they can come as landslides, or earthquakes, or lightning, or tsunamis. And sometimes they come as events, or people, or words. Or a moment that stuns you for the rest of your life.
A few days ago, I had the good fortune to encounter one of these moments again. It came, it conquered, it left, it came back. And just like that, the story has unravelled again. This is a typhoon I'll gladly live with for the rest of my life, even if it stuns me each time. And yeah, I will be patient. I will not ask for more. Lightning never strikes the same place twice. I guess this lightning did.
I'll borrow Emily Dickinson's words: He fumbles at your senses like the players at the keys. Before he turns full music on, he stuns you by degrees.
Some things are strange. Some things are wicked. They come unannounced, and leave without flair but with much grief. But when they come back, I will gladly be carried away. Again. And just like that...