At two o’clock in the afternoon it was as dark as if dusk had already passed. The rain that had been avoiding us like a wayward son finally made an appearance and validated our choice not to go to a state park or the beach. We’d considered a weekend get-a-way to unwind after several intensely busy and stressful weeks. Yet neither of us could quite muster the energy to pull off even a day trip. So we stayed home and when the rain began pouring in I felt a sense of release, of quiet surrender to what was meant to be right now.

It’s funny how something like the weather can instantly remove options, and therefore the mental burden of decision-making about all the things we could/should be doing. Have you noticed that? It’s like getting sick and realizing you just need to stay in bed and let the rest of life happen without you. And you can do so without guilt because you’re sick after all and don’t really have a choice. Today, I am not worried that we’re missing out on a great experience since the rain would have prevented us from enjoying the activities we most wanted to do.

Instead, nature is telling me to be still. Let the garden be replenished (no need to be working in it). Let the rivers and lakes and trails be undisturbed for now. Listen to the rain hit the metal roof and the thunder punctuate the moment. See the trees perk up with a long-awaited deep drink. And be reminded that I need to drink deeply as well. Having this unstructured time to quiet my mind, rest my body, allow myself not to rush into the next thing has been a real nourishment and, I realize, a payoff for simplifying our lives to this point. There are only a few things to finalize after our move. Mostly the house is in order and I can lie on my couch without seeing a million projects. My biggest challenge is to keep up with the reading and writing I want to do. That feels really nice, like a long-awaited summer rain.