Bang

Bang. The pain of loneliness sets in deep. It doesn’t come on slowly. It doesn’t give fair warning. Rather it hits like a loud thunder clap over the canopy of an already dreary day and instantly drops rain the size of golf balls that begin clouding vision, making judgment blurry. 

I start to run, but there is no where to run to. I seek shelter, but the drops of water cascade through the thickest of covering. I give in. Settle into the drenched clothes that I chose for this hike. We are here on our own accord; yes this was our choice to hike. But we didn’t bring the rain.

The rain is built into the very makeup of our existence. White man, after all wouldn’t be here on the American Continent had we not fought the Native Americans and drove them away in the name of god. We bring the rain through our culture, through our beliefs. It brings life and it brings pain.

Bang. The pain of loneliness settles in deep. My heart begins to thump and I miss my wife. I miss walking with her hand in mine, looking at the sky as we stroll down the street to get ice cream, or pizza, or just a glance of the spring sunset in the evening mountain air.

Bang. The pain of loneliness settles in as I crawl onto my blow up mattress after 14 hours of work. I put myself here, it was my choice to wear the clothes that were in my closet.

Bang. The rain falls, I look down on my phone. From the lips of my blood kin come abnegation of my very being. Using the name of the God I call my own, my father, my guidance to shame me and tell me I’m wrong. 

I can’t escape this rain. I didn’t choose this rain. If I had a home in my closet I would have brought it with, but then why would I ever leave. 

I lean into it. I breathe. This may not pass any time soon, but that’s ok. I’m finally somewhere I’ve never been able to get to. Peace in the rain.