Southern Rain.

The thing I love best about living in the south is the smell of a summer rain. The smell of steam coming off of hot pavement that has been baked under a southern sun. The pungent floral smell when you walk by a honeysuckle bush that is mixed with the humidity and carries that unforgettable smell all the way to your memory. It penetrates you in a way that is usually reserved for love. And it makes you believe in the beauty of things seen and unseen and allows you to believe in forever.

Those are things that you can never forget and never want to give up. The sound of distant thunder the sticky feeling that envelopes you when you walk outside, the instant and knowingly fleeting, cold feel of rain drops hitting your skin and then the warmth returning to that tiny speck on you. And when the storm ends the hope that tomorrow will bring with it cloudless skies and a warm sun. The hope of a better life or a better day as if just hope wasn’t enough.

I have known many places and many homes the only thing is none of them were my place or my home, all I ever had were the people and of course the memories that go with them. The places change and in some cases disappear entirely and the homes are really never homes just a place to stay dry and warm or wet and cool as it were. The only place I ever felt I belonged was next to the one woman I have, and whom I always will love. And as it turned out I didn’t truly belong there either. But she was like my beloved southern rain I remember everything about her. The way she felt against my skin the smell of her, how a feeling of protection over took me as if I was perishing and she was God, heaven and eternal life. When I was around her it was like she was the sun and I was the rain on the ground I knew she would warm me and I would eventually return to the sky to be as close to her as possible. Just a cloud striving to leave the atmosphere and touch the sun but always returning to earth as tears short of my goal.

When love leaves you tend to leave love and although love wishes to find you again it is not so easy for a mere mortal to forgive an emotion. Love is the only emotion that is not only physically part of you but is the vast make up of your soul.


The beauty of the moment is far more beautiful than time and what it does to your belief of perfection is quite unforgivable. Love is more shocking and appreciated when it is deserved. And when it is inspected you can find no imperfection that is what true beauty is.