On Saturday as I pulled into my driveway, I saw a glimmer of lightning behind the mountains. I dismissed the notion of rain because even when the clouds look bloated in the desert, a downpour is not guaranteed. The summer months are anointed as the monsoon season, but after living in the Southwest for five years, this seems more like a myth. There is a single type of weather that permeates most days in the desert: the sun is steady, unwavering and the rays peek through the blinds like an early morning wake-up call.
Read the rest of this essay on The First Day.
Image: “Storm at Desert Mountain” by Cedward Brice via Flickr.
Welcome! I am a lawyer turned freelance writer, essayist, and editor. On staff at Literary Mama and the co-founder and co-editor of the literary journal, The Sunlight Press, my essays and reported work have appeared in The Washington Post, The Lily, Saveur, Civil Eats, Brain, Child, ESPN and elsewhere. I am currently at work on a memoir on grief and culture and how it provides perspective on life’s ordinary graces. I invite you to appreciate the ordinary with me. I hope my daily practice of seeing the magic in the mundane helps you celebrate and find more of these moments in your life too.