I went home today. Engulfed in a water cold cloud. Track season.
The busy street within earshot delivers high-energy crashing waves from the abundant rain. With my back to the large window, it sounds like the Oregon coast, brought to a small city. Like the sleep sound machine I bought when I left home.
A warm ray breaks through the cover and falls on my back. Yesterday I asked students to reconsider their preconceptions of heat- to only think in terms of energy, motion of particles. The molecules of air on my back begin to vibrate with greater energy and I benefit from the friction of their collisions. But, like home, the moment is temporary because there is much more raining to be done.
In homage to the darkness and rain, I cover myself in a warm blanket and raise the ceremonial cup of hot liquid to my lips. Eyes closed, losing myself in the constant rhythm.