Monday, January 25, 2010

a sky that could be anywhere

It is winter in Kuwait. Winter came suddenly this year, on a November morning. I had to go buy a pair of nice shoes since all I brought with me were sandals. I had to buy a couple of sweaters. I began wearing my husband's thick, warm socks around the apartment. I shiver here in Kuwait and I certainly did not expect to shiver in this desert.

Right now the wind is shrieking, tearing around the corners of our building. Sometimes the wind is so strong, the windows rattle. The screams wake me at night. I have yet to see a bad sandstorm, but when I hear the wind, I want to look out the window.

Thunder here is rare and I like it. Shortly after we arrived, all I wanted was a cloudy day. I wanted Biblical rain, like the fat rain that fell in Colombia and turned a hill into a waterfall. We get rain here, more than I expected, during the winter. It falls like marbles and carries the dust in the air to the ground. After the rain, cars are mud-splotched, windows are dusty. A few days ago, in the afternoon, I heard loud ping ping ping and went to the window to see hail bouncing off the window ledge.

The other morning, Justin and I lay in bed; the curtains were open and we were staring at the blue blue sky. "That sky could be anywhere," I said. The wind was whistling and if I closed my eyes, I could be in Wisconsin, warm in my bed while it snowed outside.

1 comment:

Angela and David Kidd said...

This is a beautifully written post!