It’s raining on my birthday.

This is the second time it has rained here in recent memory. We’ve had a very hot, very dry summer. The last 3 months have been…a lot, and the last 3 years have been even more.

I think this rain is for me.

It’s funny because in media, rain is often used as a device to portray negativity. Sadness, guilt, fear, loneliness. It always rains at the funeral. But after all these months of nothing, this rain feels like a gift. A new beginning. A sign of good things to come.

It’s not a pretty thing, this rain. It’s not a sunny, summer rain. It’s not light sprinkles and splashing in puddles. It’s cloudy and dark and heavy. But it feels like something fresh. Which is kind of my hope for life right now.

We’re getting closer and closer to when we said we were going to move. We’ve talked to realtors, looked at areas. I get emails daily with new houses on the market. It’s all very exciting and hopeful.

But, man is it scary.

Uprooting my life, moving away from the only place I’ve ever lived, leaving family behind. Not knowing anyone where we’re going. Not knowing any restaurants or stores or parks. Not knowing the weather, the roads, the quirks. It feels hopeful, but it feels heavy and dark too.

And I think that’s okay. I think it’s okay to try something new even when you’re not one hundred percent convinced. It’s okay for your excitement to me tangled up with fear and sadness and anxiety. It’s okay to not know and not try to guess. This might be the best thing we’ve ever decided to do, and it might be a terrible mistake, but either way, it’s worth a shot.

I wonder what the weather will look like next year on my birthday. Guess we’ll find out.