My great fortune.

Today is a quiet day, save for the welcome, rhythmic tapping of rain on the sill.
Steady showers put me in a mind of gratitude.
As I see the rain, I see the world spring to life in response.
The dry time has ended, if momentarily.
It reminds me how desperately the West needs this life-giving bounty we are experiencing.
Some of my favorite places in this country I call home are experiencing a drought of unprecedented magnitude.
We have the means and capable humans to alleviate this scenario, but the arrogance to say it isn’t really a problem. Or worse, it isn’t OUR problem, because we don’t live there.
But we do live there. It’s in the same big, beautiful country we call home.
I want the West to have some of what we do, so they can continue to be who they are. A collective insanity prevents it from happening, and sooner than later, millions will have to migrate east.
A problem that took generations to become undeniable was completely avoidable.
I’ll have my memories of those vast and vacant landscapes all of my days. I cherish them as the treasure they are.
I want to collect new memories and stories, and it is my sincere hope that we all collectively lend a hand and make the collection of such memories possible.

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