All Wet

 Raining again. 

Can't help but think of my mom. 

She always used to say, "We need the moisture." This was her standard reply no matter what the season when water fell from the sky. It didn't matter if it was rain or sleet or hail or snow. It didn't matter how many inches or feet. "We need the moisture."

When I moved from Colorado to California, we had periodic discussions about the precipitation levels in our respective locations. When I told her we were getting rain, she would often ask if I couldn't "send some it our way," over the hills over the mountains, halfway across the continent. Because that was the way it worked. 

There were times when, in spite of my best efforts, I couldn't make this transference happen. When we had a deluge, one that had caused flooding and all sorts of alerts and damages, I could sense my mom was tensed in anticipation. 

Then there was only a sprinkle east of the Rockies. A shower of disappointment, if you will. 

Then there were those storms that bore down on my old hometown without ever making an appearance on the left coast. Blizzard conditions. Swollen streams and rivers. Where did all of that come from without first making at least an appearance on the left coast?

These days the weather is pretty much my own. With my mother gone, I don't have a Colorado correspondent for comparison. 

But I still sneak a peak at the weather over there. I want to say on top of these things, meteorologically speaking. 

We need the moisture.