I woke up to find my cell screen covered by droplets of water, except…the drops weren’t real. That’s the way my android announces the weather. Living in Phoenix, Arizona, I rarely get a glimpse of magic rain. Today was the first time in about 100 days. Imagine that, 100 days without an ounce of water.
Two evenings ago one of the local channels did a special on how the people from the Arizona Game and Fish Department, in charge of wild life conservation, plan to bring water to the secluded and very dry watering holes of various local wild species. We take water for granted, turn on the faucet and voila. Meanwhile, the original local creatures are dying of thirst.
That’s why those fake droplets filled my heart with joy.
Often, after an unexpected downpour I find myself humming an old song by French singer Gilbert Becaud, appropriately titled Le jour où la pluie viendra. Translates to The Day when the rain will fall. ‘The trees, crying with joy, will offer their branches.’
I’d like to add that all creatures large or small will also rejoice, the day when the rain will fall—again.