When it rains, it pours

A little picture for you all.....

You're out boating on Jackson lake. The sky is brilliant blue and the only trace of clouds is the little wisp of white behind Mt Moran. As you swing your legs over the side of the boat you see the perfect reflection of your toes, your legs, your face...and then you plunge into the glass. You strap on the ski boot, grab the rope handle, and give the driver your thumbs up. The icy chill takes your breath away, but before you know it you're already on top. Slicing. Cutting. Playing with the water like a child's finger in whip cream. The day is perfect. It's everything you've wanted, and more. You can't imagine things could ever change.

Pretty soon you're exhausted and you hop back into the boat. You bundle up in towels and blankets and find a comfortable seat up front where the wind can dry your wet hair. You watch the smiles and happy faces as others get their turn to experience bliss. You're so happy in your dream-like state that you don't even notice the foreboding clouds that are quickly creeping around the mountain peaks. It's the wind that brings you back to reality. Suddenly the glassy water is not so glassy. And those clouds that were once in the distance are racing toward the sun. Everyone jumps into action and you quickly turn back towards the harbor. But it's a long way back. How did you ever get so far from safety? The effortless gliding of the boat is replaced with crashing, bouncing, water spraying in your face. You're already thoroughly soaked before the first drops of rain even begin to fall. But it's not the rain you're afraid of, you can handle being wet. It's the sparks of lightening and the deep, booming thunder that awake you to your dire state. You are not safe. You must get off the lake.

Minutes feel like days and hours feel like years. You long to be safe and sound in your warm house. Or on solid ground. Or to just see the lights of the cabins on the shore. It feels like the storm will never end, it's darkness eclipses the beauty of the morning. You wonder if it would be better to catapult yourself into the water rather than endure the pain a moment longer (yes, fear makes us think and do crazy, irrational things). But just when you've almost given up hope you see a light. You can hold on, for even as the storm rages there is safety in sight.

There is encompassing relief as you take your first step on solid ground. You are no longer in eminent danger. But the storm does not pass, at least not at first. You feel it's affect for many days and your sunny world is turned to gray. You don't like the storm. You want your blue skies back. But that's when you see it. No, not a glimmer of light or a streak of sun. It's still gray out. In fact you're in the car passing a barren patch of land once burned by a giant wildfire. But it's not the charcoal tree trunks you're interested in, it's the bright green buds popping out of the soil. They're soaking up every last drop of your bitter storm.

P.S. Sorry for all the vague symbolism. It's late and I don't know what possessed me to write this, maybe I'm inspired by Brie's beautiful prose, but at least in my crazy mind it pretty much sums up what I've been going through. Hopefully by next week I'll be laughing, not crying, about the stormy, turbulent times.