I got back to my West African home late on Wednesday night after a magical week in Paris with perfect, sunny, cool (for me) weather. I came back to torrential rains that haven't ceased since the drive home from the airport.
#blesstherains is trending in my life, and I wish I could mean it, like actually bless the rains, instead of hate them. It's incessant, and after five days of solid, non-stop downpours, all I could think about was how soon I could look for a job elsewhere, how much I detest this place, and was ready to give up and crawl into bed forever.
And then this morning, I woke up to only the sound of my air conditioner and not rain on the metal roof above my head. It was still dark out but after a shower and ingesting some bran flakes and coffee I could see actual blue skies lighting up the soggy ground. No longer wanting to stay in bed, I was thrilled to walk to my first meeting and got here an hour early. I'm sipping coffee and gazing at the little bit of blue skies I can see above me; and while I see the rain clouds rolling in on the horizon, I'll take every little shot of hope and joy I can right now.
And I sit here and think, my life is pretty great. Monrovia isn't so bad. Shaking my head at the ridiculousness of the contrast, I choose to be grateful for today, and for the shot of hope that it won't always be rainy and miserable, and take a picture to remind myself in the next deluge that blue skies will return someday.
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