When the voice traipses through my brain that tries to invalidate or dismiss my loss, I shush it aside and continue to allow myself to cry as hard as I need to cry. This is my pain. This is my loss.
How do we understand, and then communicate, the cause-and-consequence of extreme weather events in a globally warmed earth?
When I finally went to bed Thursday night and closed my eyes, I could see only images of rushing water. In the ensuing days, the sound of falling rain, which I have always found soothing, now seems fearsome. When will it start up again? How hard will it rain? How long it will last?
I have lived in Boulder for nearly 30 years and have never seen anything -- weatherwise -- like what I've witnessed these past two years.
Weather Report did "deluge the populace with artwork" exhibited all across town in numerous venues and outdoors. I surmise that no one in Boulder had imagined then that the real "deluge" would arrive -- so soon.