Symphonies and Storms

Chapter 1

Tonight, I had the same feeling that hangs in the air right before a thunderstorm – but this was not an angry, anxiety inducing storm. This was more like the kind of storm that sends beautiful arcs of lightning in a jagged dance across the sky. A storm that brings rain that pours onto the thirsty Earth below and waters the dry gardens that reach for the sky's live-giving droplets. The impending arrival of this storm fills the air with the heavy anticipation of the excitement to come. This storm promises to give rather than take, and to fill the Earth with an awe-inspiring spectacle that will leave it feeling refreshed and fulfilled in its wake.

The people in the crowd below chattered excitedly as the sounds of musicians preparing for the night swirled around them. Strings hummed melodies that made big arcs through the air like flashes of lighting that would soon light up the night sky. Flutes and reeds fluttered notes and scales like frantic raindrops about to hit the ground. Brass players rumbled like low thunder in the distance, barely there but promising to make their presence known when the storm finally reaches the ears of their captive audience.

The air was electric with the excitement of what was to come, and the weight of the anticipation matched the humidity that clung to our bodies in damp beads of sweat. The time had finally come, and I stood with my back to the audience as a hush quickly filled the room. The oboe sang its familiar, steady, call to action. The woodwinds answered the call first, joining the oboe in unison and making small adjustments to match its steady hum. Then, the smallest break of silence, before the oboe returned to give the same steady call to the brass. A trumpet answered first, then a horn – the darker timbres mixing with the oboe in a beautiful agreement. Another short pause. Then, the oboe gave one last invitation, to which the string section gladly accepted, sending bursts of color and light into the sky. Another short bout of silence – the air heavy with humidity and anticipation. Then, the excitement boiled over into a round of applause as the conductor stepped out from backstage dressed in his very best. I shook his hand, we nodded to each other – each of us recognizing the sparkle that we saw in each other's eye. Another hush – the calm before the storm. Then, he stepped up to the podium, raised his baton, and at that very moment the heavens opened... and it poured.