This morning, as I stepped out of my door, the air felt like a perfect kiss: firm with no push, moist with no drip, filling me from top to bottom, and making me slightly light-headed. Tasted like the bowl of a cool spoon; smooth, round, grey and just faintly tasting of something. Ahhhhhhh. Life is once more one hundred percent worth living.
On the drive to work, my windshield was covered with the lacy effect of tiny droplets of water -- I left them there, and allowed my eyes to get accustomed to it, like a nineteenth-century woman walking around with a little veil on her hat. They were apparently just hanging in the air, and I was driving through them, instead of dropping downward from the sky. Standing outside had given me no feeling of dropping raindrops, and yet there they were appearing all over the windshield. Made me imagine them hanging in the air, just drifting, as though they were lighter than air, which everyone knows they can't be -- no matter how tiny, right? Water weighs more than air. It just does.
The joy that this has given me has settled a bit now that I am at work -- sitting here with the door standing open to allow as much of this dampness to fill the office as possible -- but it was so significant a sensation that it overcame the sort of negative outlook I was carrying because of my migraine. Yup, day two. One of the very mild ones, but still, bad enough to be on my mind, as it were, every moment. But that first deep breath affected even my physical body, and through it, the mental attitude that it was informing. I am still in pain, but I do not dislike anybody, or anything, that I would not ordinarily dislike, and I certainly do NOT dislike my life -- I love it!
If I ever have cats or dogs -- I think I will name them Damp and Grey.