There is something so essential about summer thunderstorms.
I thought about those days yesterday. I had been biking all day around the national mall, stopping occasionally to read a copy of The Alchemist. I had read the book before, but given my renewed commitment to simplifying my life, the message of the book has taken on a whole new meaning. Before I knew it a storm had come in and I was completely soaked. Scampering to the back of the Jefferson Memorial, I watched bands of rain soaking the grass as tourists, like sheep, ran every-which way. I suddenly thought about those days in college, about the laughter of friends, and about the hushed silence of rain-soaked memories. Looking up at the darkened sky I calmly walked down the steps to the grass. The rain was warm and welcoming. And I was free again.