Like Rain on a Window

I am a very lucky girl. I read and think for a living. I get to wander through thoughts, see where they take me, and watch how people respond to them. I write stories or imagine places and color in details with tiny brushstrokes and wonder whether folks will notice them.

Sometimes I put my heart right out there. Tears form in my eyes. They gather first like drops on a rainy car window, then run fast down through my fingers onto the keys into cyberspace. Those drops are the feelings behind the words that refuse to be separated from what I’m saying. The feelings don’t want the words to stand alone, perhaps to be misunderstood. That’s brave of the feelings. I like that about them. I like that about me.

It’s never boring to write. It’s often trying, testing, and tiring. It’s also always worth getting up each morning to see what adventure I will find. It’s always good to go to bed. I’m always dead, brain-dead tired.

At night, though, at night is my own thinking time. When I think at night, I think about the stars. I think about life. I think about my life, your life, life in general. I think of how people treat people. I think about fairy tales and heroes. I wish there were more of those. I wonder why there isn’t more compassion. I wonder why I don’t do more, see more, learn more. I wonder why I don’t do less.

I think about the promise of a new day tomorrow and a good sleep tonight. Before I sleep at night, I think of how the dark sky is like a blanket over the whole world.

I think of all the children who have no one to tuck them in at night. I ask the sky to tuck them in, and the stars to watch over them.

I wish them all good-night.

One little tear finds its way down to my cheek like rain down a car window, to my pillow.

I blow gently on it so the air can carry it with my feelings to them.

−me strauss Letting me be