not a drop to drink

On Monday I wake up to a strange roaring noise, and it takes me a while to realize that the sound is a torrential tropical rain. It pours in sheets from the sky, drips from flat palm branches, pools in the sand.

The irony is not missed on me that we are here to help the Dominican people find clean water, yet endless gallons of it are gushing from the heavens. What’s wrong with saving rainwater? I am told contamination is the problem. People do collect free agua from the sky – indeed, we have seen black collection tanks on top of many homes. Rain pours down the corrugated roofs, into gutters, through pipes, and into tanks. But it carries bird poop, rust, dirt, and mosquito larvae.

I sit with Mom and Dad on their patio to think, journal, and watch the rain. This is a luxury I am not accustomed to, and I begin to feel restored.