Today gratitude looked like rain. I woke up to an unforgiving sky, to clouds holding on tightly to their grievances, to wind that may have been imagined as I don’t recall the motion of the foliage but I could almost promise that a sky that color held a grudge that could only be expressed through dance. And I felt this same way. Mirrored inside me was the hostile sky. A deep grey penetrated my flesh and was received by the open arms of my otherwise bound and “protected” heart. I’m in recovery from the things I could not change. I’m trying to forgive the person who caused me pain and the way I hold myself now is the way I challenge a child who stepped on my feet- with tenderness and an anger that doesn’t make it into my words or my face because I know it is misplaced. And then, in my malice, I cursed the past and what it brought me and the sky opened up as if to say, “Here’s something new.” I felt those raindrops touch me through the window. And as I pressed my palm against the pane a flood of newness replaced the tension that held my bones in poor posture and released the sour notes in my stomach and finally, I heard my own music. I thought for sure it was a song bird but it was clear that they all knew the value of shelter at that time. There was not a creature living that I could see but me. My reflection met me, spattered with rain and I thought, in that moment, that maybe I could just relax. There was no where to go, nothing to do that couldn’t wait and a warm, dry couch peering ’round the corner at me from the living room. I knew, in that moment and in all that have since followed, that I have permission to be new. I have permission to have a past and I have permission to move on. And as the lightening showed me what power I hold I was told, as I recall, that the rain was just for me this morning and that the past didn’t matter at all.