In Bangalore, I missed the monsoon.

It rained once or twice, it drizzled and sprinkled and spat, but it was never what I considered a monsoon- not even a light monsoon which was the actual promise. When I got back to TX I got my rain. The “Summer Storms” are all over the news. This is the TX monsoon- it comes once every two or three or five years. I don’t find it unpleasant at all- I would give 75% of the time I’ve been back to rainy days. Rain- dark clouds threatening skies, ominous thunder and lightening across the sky- 25% bright sunny hot, shiny summer days.

Everything is green and lush, and all the rivers and streams are high- too high in fact. The news weather report has started including “saturation levels.” They let us know how much it was rained, how much more it will rain, and how much longer we have before the ground is so saturated with rain that flash floods will come and sweep us away. Lawns have turned into swamps, people have been evacuated from their homes; cars have floated away in rivers that used to be city streets. People have been rescued and people have drowned.

The signs on the highway have changed their blinking messages from “Click it or ticket,” to “Turn around, don’t drown.”

I’m not tired of the rain. I like the rain, the cool of the evenings, the smell of the wet soil. I like the sound of the water rolling off the roof and splat-tat-tattering down to the driveway. I like the bubbles that form on the surface of the puddles when the fat drops hit. I like the concentric rings that bounce off on another when the bubbles pop. I like the sunshine that breaks through between storms.

This is a good monsoon.