Rain, rain, come and stay, I guess?
Seasons of mourning.
Seasons of sorrow are a part of life, that every human heart has to weather.
Like winter or summer, spring and autumn,
There is a time for all things, a season set apart for us to bear.
Eternity has both marked and deemed it so.
The strain from the events that ring the heart with loss and affliction,
And the memories of grief from every moment that pains our souls.
Rain, is a curious thing. The storm, is a bittersweet sight.
A time of reflection in solitude,
A recollection and re-evaluation of what was, what is, and what inevitably, will be.
Though the dark may linger on,
And the battle lines are surely drawn,
Weeping may occur throughout the night,
With joy in the morning to our delight,
So, our hearts are tested in the shadows of night,
With all our might, we hope and believe, right before the break of dawn...
The beginning of autumn was much colder than in years past, as if the atmosphere mourned over the very affairs throughout the land. The lamentation from the storms raging in constant sorrow, while the gloom of grey downcast lingered on in the heavens itself. With each break of day, the sun’s rays remained absent. All warmth throughout the land faded into a constant chill. The sadness of the human heart poured itself in constant sadness, while the flames of hope barely glimmered. No oil was placed for the flames in the lamplights, and the nights were position in the favor of thieves and burglars. The night was growing old as the dawn retained its position in the east. The morning was breaking through.
I sat upon my kitchen table as I looked out the window. My heart, reflected upon many things, and all things. The past weeks had been a series of setbacks that continuously brought misery. The bad news in repetition almost too overwhelming, too unbearable to receive. I reflected upon the prior days, the losses accrued, the sorrows that lingered throughout my memory. My dearest friend, passed away from her infirmity. My mother, stricken with a deadly disease beyond recovery. The love of my youth left me without a word for another man. Day by day, night by night, I lingered on the loss and betrayal. The tears shed, the heart that bled, and my mind trying to fathom it all. Keeping things in perspective while realizing the sting of pain, the agony of losing thing dear to my heart. Few things were dearer to a man to then the friends he cares for, and the people he loves, oh so tenderly.
I took a swig from my mug and released a sigh from my lips. “Knock, knock!” My front door pounded as my eyes darted over to the central hallway. “Visitors? I wasn’t expecting any today! I wonder, who it could be?” I thought to myself. I slowly walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway and reached my hand towards the knob on the front door. There a tender beauty lay before my eyes. “Paris! It’s, a surprise to see you! I wasn’t expecting you to be here today!” I noted. She reached out with her arms and wrapped them around my waist, as she embraced me tightly. “I’ve heard you’ve been going through a difficult time! I wanted to check up on you and see how you were doing!” Paris replied. I smiled at her kind gesture with a warm glow that burned within my heart. “Thank you, Paris. Please, come in!” I requested. “Thank you!” Paris replied as she walked through the front door. I closed the front door and turned towards her. “May I take your coat?” I requested. She took her coat off and handed it to me. “Thank you,” Paris responded.
I lead Paris into the kitchen as she sat down while I strolled over to the cupboard. “Coffee?” I asked. “Yes please!” She requested as she extended a chair from the interior of the table and sat down on it. “You know, it’s a strange thing, this weather we’re having. It reminds me of the storm I am currently going through! Nasty, terrible thing!” I chuckled as I brought a cup of coffee alongside the creamer, sugar, and a spoon. Paris tried to feign a smile. “I’m, sorry you’re going through all this. It, it must be painful to have endure this much. How is your mother doing?” Paris asked. I pulled a smile out of nowhere. “From what I understand, save a divine intervention from God himself, it won’t get any better. It hurts me to see her suffer like this. I have to push through, I guess,” I responded.
Paris shed a tear, as I put my hand on hers instinctively. I looked down to see what I had done not realizing it, then I smiled nervously. “I’m supposed to be comforting you, and here you, are making me all sappy eyed and comforting me,” Paris responded. “Oh, shut up, Paris. You’re doing a great job just being here,” I bluntly stated. We both chuckled a bit at my snarky response.
I got up from my table and stared out the window. I sighed. “Storms, are an interesting thing. A time of reflection, of mourning. Of solitude, and recollection. They come and wreak havoc upon our lives, and we are left to pick up all that the destruction it has wrought. We question all things we once thought we knew, and perhaps, find new things that we didn’t. Perhaps it’s not whether if we have to go through one or not. Perhaps, perhaps it’s the best time learn how to remain joyful, regardless of what we weather, or the duration of the downpouring rain. Perhaps storms are just the building blocks for something new, that has yet to be,” I said out loud. “How do you figure that?” Paris asked. I turned to her with a smile. “Because how can you expect to reap what you sow without the downpour of the rain? Perhaps we must learn to weep through the night, so that we can experience that joy that can only be found through enduring the times of mourning!” I said. Paris shed a tear as she wiped her face with a tissue from her hand.
“Don’t get all sappy with me, you dork,” I responded. Paris started laughing. “You had a totally great moment going right there with all the emotions and the feels, and you had to ruin it!” Paris started teasing. “Eh,” I replied.
Storms, are not without reason, and there will be times where we may feel immense of sorrow. The question is not: Why you are going through this much pain? The question is: How will you choose to remain joyful and keep your head held high despite all that’s going on?
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About the Creator
Jordan Zuniga
Aspiring christian creative writer creating pieces to provoke thought and give God and Lord Jesus Christ the glory! God bless and I hope you’re doing well!
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Negotiations must take place.
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The Inferno Elixir: A Legacy of Blood
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