catharsis

my alarm went off at 5:00 am, ringing out in unison with the loud clap of thunder whose partner lit the early morning sky. i've been working at the hospital for almost 2 months now, and i've been awoken each morning, until this one, my gut sifting through my now ever-present background anxiety and a touch of excitement for the day, my eyes heavy with a full-out exhaustion that can come only with a new city, a new career and long, intense days.

but yesterday was different.

for the first time since i've moved into chicago, i paused. in bed and awake, i listened to the rain pour and said aloud, alongside every meteorologist working these early chicago hours:


finally.


it was like the sky over the city of chicago had shared in my catharsis. like perhaps this drought would end. like the dreadful heat and humidity of this uncharacteristic summer has mirrored my own experience of recent life. the air stuffed full, the grass and trees exhausted and withered, without knowing when or how the pressure would change and release would come.

and then, in an early morning summer thunderstorm, it comes. slowly, it comes.