Just a drop of rain (Angie)

Over the past few weeks in San Francisco, two things have been happening - it's been dumping rain, and I have been planning my wedding. Both of these things (praise the lord) are nearly done. The rain is going away, and my wedding is coming right up, on Saturday April 2.

While my fellow San Franciscans are cognizant of the unyielding rain, I am pretty sure most of them aren't following my wedding planning the way they are following the weather.

Myself, I think there is a nifty sort of meteorological circularity happening here. The last time we had this kind of epic spring rain in San Francisco was 5 years ago, and I was leaving my ex-husband and striking out into the soggy world to re-build my life. It seemed at the time that the whole universe was an echo of my weeping soul. Every drop of rain was a tiny piece of my oceanic sadness splattering on the window, on the ground, and on the roof.

In April of 2006, as I prepared to move out of the house (and life) I knew, I braced myself for a long day of trial by rain. My sister and I were only relocating a small number of my belongings, but it was going to be a challenge to keep them from getting completely soaked. Moving day dawned gloomy and grey, but then, amazingly, as we began hauling stuff from house to car, the clouds parted, the sun shone through, and the day turned picture perfect. We drove to my new apartment with car windows down and radio blaring, as the huddled masses of San Francisco emerged from their homes to crowd the sidewalks and parks, blinking in the sun and downing celebratory cocktails. That was the single sunny day we'd had in weeks, and the next day the clouds closed back in and the downpour resumed for weeks yet again. I will forever remember that one beautiful day as my own personal thumbs-up from the universe. A little moving-on miracle that happened at a much-needed time.

Now, the rain doesn't bring forth any thoughts of sadness. I do hope that it will be over with soon (yesterday would be nice), and I am profoundly tired of umbrellas, galoshes, wet jeans and giant puddles. But the rain is also cozy. In fact, as I lay in bed drifting off to sleep the other night, I listened to to the rain coming down and felt deeply content. I was grateful for my warm, dry bed, and especially for my soon-to-be husband Aaron snoozing next to me. Aaron tucked his feet under mine, and it seemed that the whole world was exactly as it should be. Every drop of rain was a tiny piece of grace splattering on the window, on the ground, and on the roof.