Thunder

It's late; quiet with much of the world asleep. My favorite time of day.
Tonight is better than some - a gentle rain can be heard through the open windows. The rain nourishes my plants and keeps my neighbors inside,
Neighbors who enjoy the quiet much as I do but fill my home with the acrid scent of cigarette smoke.
The price I pay for opening the windows to the cool night air.
But the kids are asleep and the dog is settled in and the rain is picking up and I think, for a moment, that this is the best it's going to get all day, all week.
Then I think: pessimist.
When I deign to be honest with myself I have to face the emptiness inside. No matter how hard I try to gorge myself on hope it seems to pass right through me -
It reminds me of holding a fingertip over the flashlight, the light still gets through.
Amazingly, as I wander down these mental walkways, the rain begins to fall more earnestly until a rumble of thunder rolls through my head.
The quiet has past and I'm grateful for the distraction.