.:Home is when I'm alone with you:.

My body is saying something to me and I'm not sure I like it. To put it quite honestly, I'm trying to fight it. How am I to listen to my beautiful, young, vibrant internal self when it's saying things like, "A home of your own would be nice. You know, the kind with a garden and a pet."?! Soon, I'll be trading my g-ma's Ford Taurus [Read: Old lady car! YES!] for my ma's Toyota Sienna XLE [Read: MINI VAN.] - and I'm excited about it. I've been craving home-ness and warmth and closeness for months now. How can I take myself seriously when, at the ripe, old age of 25, my body is telling me to...

Settle down.

WHAT?! Never! Me?! Settle down - you've got to be kidding me. I can't settle down. That's for 60-year-olds or something, right? How is this possible? I'm totally ok with "growing up" but good grief, this is a disaster. My whole M.O. revolves around being constantly on the go, up for anything, living life to the fullest - and then this comes along and I start getting all sentimental and start looking at house porn, dreaming of buying a home that looks so... I can't say it. I can't!

So permanent! UGH! What is happening to me?! Whyyyy is it happening to me?! I'm so young. I have dreams of traveling the world and sleeping (illegally?) on beaches far away, nothing tying me down, but then I get sidetracked by the American Dream. You know, that one. That one that haunts everyone, including me now, I guess. It feels so shameful. What am I supposed to do? I don't even have the finances to support such a dream, so it's not like I can do anything about it, but still, there it lurks. Around every corner, in every mirror, I see an older version of me, taunting me to give in to this idea of settling down. *Shudders* That is so not for me... Or is it? NO! Oh, the horror! What have I done with myself? Who is this person? Why does she want home-cooked meals every night with a fireplace (the perfect picture of settled adulthood right there) and something permanent and ... and ... and ... stable.

I think my life is over. There has to be some way to fix this.

Right?

.:When the rain is blowing in your face and the whole world is on your case:.

I miss the rain in Thailand. It was the only time one ever felt chilly during the hot months of the summertime. The drops of rain would dance along the tin roof of our apartment, making music so organic and subtle. It cleansed the earth and the buildings of their layers that kept holding on to the days before. It was restorative. It was fresh and new.

In the Deep South where I am from, people would pray for rain all the time. Farmers' children went to my school and we knew plenty of people with farmland in our small town. The rain was essential to their crops, their livelihood. It brought them peace and prosperity, silencing inner turmoil that would arise during times of drought.

One of my favorite things about rain is how it changes things so dramatically when it is simply drops of water from the sky. It is so special to life for it is essential for our bodies and for everything that we do. It is also symbolic, and few things make me happier than to sit alone on my couch with a cup of hot tea, just listening to the rain, watching it fall from the sky, washing away the dirt and sadness, bringing new life to whatever it kisses.

Today, I am praying for rain.