deluge.

There's something supernatural about words, the way they float around in the air like static waiting to be used. I can't count the number of times someone has used a word in conversation, one I've never heard before or maybe not in years, and it catches my attention. I let it roll around in my head, I might look it up or write it down. Then later that day I'll be reading, watching a movie, and there it is. A word I never see, never hear. At least until now.

Today I was talking to a woman about the storm that's expected. She referred to it as a "deluge", and I started thinking about the word. How I liked it, how it comes from another language. An hour later I picked up the book I'm reading, an anthology of experimental short stories I found under a table, in a second-hand book store. I read a story in it called "Motherlogue", and right there, in just the second paragraph: deluge. This is a story written in 1970, so the word isn't fresh in people's minds as if I were reading a current bestseller. No, this is just another random intervention; a word given to me and then regiven to me to highlight it's importance.

The word "deluge" isn't native to the English language, it comes from the latin root. Dis meaning off and lavere to wash. In the bible, the great flood is called The Deluge. And I've been told the Spanish word for storm is deluvia, an incredible word itself.

The only thing left now is to wait for the storm, along with anything else that may fall from the sky.