It rained hard for the first time in several months this afternoon. I made it home just in time to change and run out to get drenched by one more Texas summer.

As the storm passed, there was a moment that reminded me of the aftermath of a truly awesome event, one of those instances in life when you're caught off guard so thoroughly that the following few moments seem to float entirely suspended in time. I'm under the impression the only reason a person ever comes back to reality in these situations is because there's another person present with a far weaker imagination. Interestingly enough, I was alone.

The rain continued heavily well after the sun broke and I was for a moment perfectly in between two fantastic things. Looking down my street, the lightning kept charging westward. The thunder must have beaten it out of the city because it wasn't any more than an afterthought. To the other direction was the afternoon sun already busy stealing the water before it hit the ground.

The rain fell steadily for several minutes with nothing less than a beautiful sky looking South off the porch. There were kindly no cars on the street so I just stood in the river in the road and listened to the rain applaud its own show against the oak leaves across the street.

Like any other Texas storm, it's turned into a thick evening. The sounds of the engines rattling away from the restaurant across the street move through the air just as heavily as the train's horn a mile away. There isn't a breeze that could move a feather but I know that's what the mosquitoes were counting on.

Growing up in Houston, there were two kinds of storms. Winter storms started around December and ran through March. They'd roll in at about 9am and turn the sky pitch black for a few hours before the skies finally opened up. All the creeks and bayous filled quickly around the neighborhoods and it would keep raining steadily for between 6 and 48 hours. It would always be overcast for the entire week and they made for some particularly awesome muddy afternoons. The other kind of storms were the ritualistic afternoon summer storms that showed up at about 5pm every day through August and September. That's what we got today. The storms would crash and bang and shake the world for about ten long minutes. Those who waited it out were wise. Everyone else just got wet.

So I met my weekend with a shower, a scared cat and a disgruntled peacock from across the street who apparently had no reason to find shelter through the deluge. The ragged looking dinosaur was perfectly content shaking me down for cat food when the rain stopped. I obliged as I so often do.