IT'S STILL RAINING

It’s still raining. 

The little league games are cancelled again.  High school activities are stuck in a weather related purgatory.  Community event organizers are spending quite a bit of time at church praying for a respite. Spring wedding brides are in complete meltdown mode.  And mothers all over town have their claws out, guarding their Mother’s Day against the re-scheduling gods whose rain dates are getting closer and closer with each falling drop of rain.

And, it’s still raining. 

I took a peek at the weather for the upcoming week.  I didn’t see too many suns.  The gardens around town, which perked up a bit when the rains started, are starting to bend in submission. I am starting to bend, a bit, too.  The rivers are rising.  The creeks are swelling.  My joints are aching. I looked out the window and saw a squirrel swimming across our back yard toward the tree that he lives in.  I didn’t know that squirrels could swim.  Good for them, I suppose.

It’s still raining.

My grandmother used to say, “You can curse the darkness or you can light a candle.”  Great advice.  Even so, it is hard to light a candle in the rain.  The farmers should be happy, I guess.  I made a mental note to remember these days when July and August roll in and I start complaining that it never rains any more.  I moved my chair over to the window and saw the squirrel make it to the tree.  He shook himself off a bit and climbed up into the tree, out of view.  One of the kids snapped me out of my trance. 

“Mom,” he said, “It’s still raining.”

I just sat there, looking through the window. And he stood there.  Waiting for me to suggest something for him to do.  Grilled cheese sandwiches wouldn’t work anymore.  It’s been raining so long that he is bored with playing his games.  “What are we going to do?” he asked me. “Pull up a chair.’ I said.  And he did.  He’s a good kid.

“It’s still raining.”

“Yep.” I said.  And we both sat there, watching the rain through the window.  Side by side, soaking in our watery misery.  We watched a couple of birds rinse off in a puddle.  We watched the wind blow over the umbrella on the porch. And we talked. Both of us leaning on the window sill.  And we talked some more. Watching the rain bead up and run down the window.  I told him stories of when I was his age.  He told me that he wanted to try out for lacrosse next year. And as we leaned on the window sill, the window started to fog up from our talking.  So we stopped and we just listened to the rain.

It’s still raining.  

Then he reached up and drew a heart on the fogged up window. 

“Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.” He said. 

And it was beautiful.

That is all.

Afterword - 

I was the boy in this story.  
Happy Mother's Day Mom. 
I'm sure it rains in Heaven sometimes.