one of my earliest memories, when i was a very very little girl, is of my parents coming to get me one rainy summer afternoon when i was supposed to be napping. im not sure why they brought me out of my room - i remember being sleepy and not at all afraid of the sound of the weather that was happening all around our little seashore bungalow. what i remember is being stood in front of the screen door to watch the most torrential rain i'm certain i'd ever witnessed sluicing off the awnings and running in rivers down the sidewalks and the street.
maybe it was the fact both my parents were there, one on either side of me. i was so little the top of my head didn't reach the top of the bottom screen in the door. watching the storm, i wasn't afraid in the least. i felt cocooned by the two people i loved best, and safe. whatever was going on Outside couldn't get me, not while i was surrounded by my parents' arms.
some part of every rain evokes some aspect of that memory, i think, because i love to listen to the rain. i like to wake up to it, i like to fall asleep with it. and what i like best of all is to write with the sound of it in the background.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
2 comments:
what a gift your parents gave you that day
Bob and I used to stand or sit on our very narrow front porch and watch thunderstorms. Now we just have the carport, but the energy is still... well, energizing.
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