The rain is coming down outside right now, great splats washing the street out front, threatening to drown the newly planted moonflower seeds in our garden, singing on the rooftop. The thunder rumbling reminds me of story I once read about thunder and lightning storms being the product of the God Thor, hard at work at his forge. Our white shepherd pup is hiding underneath the desk with a very concerned look on his face. Probably, he should be concerned; I'm not really sure I should be sitting at the computer while lightning illuminates the sky outside my window and plan on shutting it off as soon as I finish writing this. Since we can't go out into the storm, though, I thought I'd take advantage of the free moment and blog a little bit about a recent event in our lives. My hope is that the rain will pass soon and little one and I can leave the house. So, far, it seems that every band of rain that passes over brings another of equal ferocity. At the rate we're going, I'll be going to the bank tomorrow.
The rainstorm matches the mood here, in a way. Yesterday one of my husband's employees, who also has been a friend of his for many years, suffered a heart attack on the job site and had to be rushed to the hospital. His daughters were brought there yesterday to visit, but he has not regained consciousness and the prognosis is not good. I'm so sad for his girls; I can clearly remember the emotions which ran through my heart and head when I lost my father at the age of 20, almost 21, many years ago. We'd hoped for some sort of miracle during the night; instead we were informed this morning that he'd died many times during the night and is now in electroshock from all of the shocking it took to bring him back. My husband is at the hospital as I type (we decided that it would be best to keep our young daughter away from the sadness of something she is still a bit young to be exposed to). I am expecting that at any moment he will call and tell me that our friend has passed over and it will be sad and troubling. Plans will need to be made for his daughter, who is fifteen. For now, the whole situation seems unreal. It makes me ever more conscious of the fact that life on this side of the veil could end at any moment, without any warning being given us. And, on that note, I think I will sign off. A minute or so ago my computer shut itself off in response to a lightning strike, or something equally as frightening. That's my cue; the Goddess might only offer one warning!
