And then came the rain

The dark clouds began to tumble over the sawgrass and the angry rolls of thunder echoed off in the deep, vast  distance.  I glanced at the radar and saw the imminent green, yellow and red blobs morphing across the reservation and the roads that would soon take me home.  I found the approaching weather fitting as we all the read the news.  

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Pulling out of the museum parking lot fat heavy raindrops began to splatter against the windshield.  Lightening flashed and slithered down from the angry clouds.  The windshield wipers worked overtime as our truck slowly meandered the curves in the road while sheets of rain slashed against us and I was more than thankful for the shelter of the vehicle.  A tiny fly was trapped in the truck with us, frantically flying from window to window.  I silently told the little fly to be grateful that he was stuck in the car instead of drowning outside in the fierce weather.

It took twice as long to make it to the main highway.  My hands gripped the steering wheel until they were white, guiding the truck against the 60 mile per hour gusts.  As we neared the end of the road, the rain began to let up and the clouds lightened.  Thunder still boomed above, but I knew the worst of the storm was behind us.  As I pulled onto the highway I glanced up into the sky.  A barely visible rainbow was forming, its muted colors hiding between the monochromatic clouds.  But it was there, pushing through the chaotic darkness.