It used to rain in the Bay Area.

When I was a student at Cal, a raincoat, umbrella and waterproof boots were necessities for making the trek to class. There would be whole weeks, months even, of daily rain–at least in my memory. Huddling in coffee shops with steamed-up windows, I would sip hot lattes and do homework after draping my dripping raincoat over a chair and slipping out of my soggy boots. 

If it was winter, it was raining. I could count on it.

Rain is scarce these days; we live with a drought. Some winters are better than others, but the overall condition is dry. I call it the New Dry California. Lawns are disappearing, replaced by low-water native plants and succulents. Cloudless, sunny days go on and on, lovely but parched. We go about our business and recreation, no need for foul weather gear, no rain delays, no rain checks, but we feel a little guilty for enjoying it. The reality of drought clouds the days. How we long for literal clouds!

The lightest drizzle has us rejoicing. Rain! At last! We pull out parkas and umbrellas, hoping to coax the drops to fall harder and faster. Children don little-worn boots and bright yellow hooded raincoats when the pavement is barely dotted with raindrops. It’s a dress-up game for them, like Halloween. Raindrips.

There’s little complaint when it does rain. We welcome the interruption. A soggy football game? A cocktail party pushed indoors? Dinner inside instead of on the patio? Hair flattened and flipping in the wrong places because I don’t carry an umbrella anymore? No problem. “We need the moisture,” we all say hopefully to each other. “I hope it keeps coming.”

The weather can’t be counted on. That’s why it’s such a good topic of conversation. It’s endlessly surprising and unpredictable. The sunrise and sunset, the phases of the moon and tides–these can be counted on. We get into a weather pattern and we think it will last forever. I would never have imagined a Berkeley winter could be so sunny and fair from my steamed-up coffee shop of the ’80’s.

I had six little weather systems enter my life over the course of 11 years–my kids. I ordered my life around their patterns. The sun rose and set with them. They were the tides that determined my days. Patterns of weekdays and weekends, school terms and summertime, homework and playtime determined where I went and what I did. It was predictable. Reliable.

I started to notice the climate shifting a bit when the first one left for college, but the daily weather stayed steady, even as the next one and the next one cleared out. I did see it coming, but it’s hard to imagine what the drought will feel like before it actually arrives.

I started noticing it first at 3:30 on school days. That was the time I had to come back on full-time duty–driving, feeding, helping with projects or homework, getting the day tucked in and wrapped up in preparation for the next day. Gradually, the line softened and the afternoon began crossing into evening without a hitch; no one needed anything. They had their own transportation, schedules and lives. It became obvious on weekends and in the summer, too, with no great influx of people and activity. The new normal weather in at home is calm.

I do not lament this climate change like I do the drought in California; this is a good thing. This is life moving along in a positive direction, children growing up and into themselves. It is cause for celebration.

It changes how we live, though. Clean laundry, home-cooked meals and cookies in the freezer (that’s where I like to keep them because I hate stale cookies) are as unpredictable as the next cloudburst. My husband and I are learning to enjoy the lack of storms and rain-delays, and are talking about taking up new hobbies and dreaming of long, romantic trips we may take, just the two of us. This is a break in the weather that we can take advantage of, knowing that the dry spell may not last long.

Like the weather, when and where we will be together can be unpredictable. We are learning to be intentional about keeping in contact (Storm tracking? Rain dances?) to support, encourage, and occasionally,  bail out our kids. There are holidays, vacations and visits when we are together; planned occasions outside of the everyday. That’s the part I can control (Irrigation? Am I taking the analogy too far?).

In the middle of my routine the other day, I got a text. “What are you up to tomorrow?” A text like that from a child is the first drops of a little weather coming in. “Wanna hang out?”

I welcome the interruption. I love it when my kids come home, ask for a favorite meal, need to do laundry or just want to hang out. I need to see them, hold them, make sure they know how much they are loved, how much we like them, how much we love to be with them.  I’ll drop everything to spend time with them.

My babies are never far from my thoughts. I’m always ready for the next shift in the wind, always hoping they will blow in and stay for a while.