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About Me

Hi my name is Bridget, and I am 15 years old.
I was born in North Carolina, where I still live :)
I have a wonderful Daddy named Rick that is a
preacher and a great Mommy named Kristie.
They are awesome parents, I wouldn't change
anything about them.
Some of my favorite things to do is to explore
in the woods with my friends, and I love to swim
and of course play in the snow. I also love going
to church! I have always loved poems and here
is one of my favorite poems. It is called the
"The Joy Of Summer's Rain"




The Joy Of A Summer's Rain

 

At first the summer heat was just mildly uncomfortable. Next it became tiring, and then, oppressive. By July, it felt a lot like working in the kitchen on Thanksgiving Day like standing in front of a hot oven for six straight hours. Yet the temperatures continued to rise, until finally in the
dusty, dried up days of August, the rain at last came.

After day upon day of parched summer heat the rain was such a welcome relief! The children shrieked with joy and begged to go out in it. I said "No" at first, almost automatically. But one look at their crushed expressions and I reconsidered.

It had been much too hot to play outside lately how could I say no now? "Well OK," I said with a grin. "But stay on the porch. And keep an eye on your little sister!" I called to the back of their heads.

 As they headed out the front door, I felt an almost forgotten rush of glee. Smiling to myself, I ran to get the towels and umbrellas and soon joined my children on the front porch. There, they danced and giggled, and leaned out as far as they could catching the rain on their hands.
 
They squealed in approval whenever the wind blew the rain their way. Only Abby was timid. She stayed safely near my side and when the wind tickled her face with moist spray she shivered and clung tighter to my hand.
 
After a while, I timidly stepped out from under the porch roof, safely beneath the protective waterproof fabric of the umbrella. I held my navy parasol in one hand and Abby's drippy little fingers in my other. Finally, I couldn't restrain myself anymore.
 
In a burst of childlike impulsiveness, I tossed my umbrella aside. Feeling like a kid again, I gathered my two-year-old and headed out into the downpour. She blinked and scrunched up her wee nose in disapproval.
 
Before long, however, she was tilting her face to the sky and catching raindrops in her mouth. "Come on!" I called to the boys. "Come out here with us!" Daniel and Thomas looked surprised (like Mom had gone a little mad), but they didn't argue.
 
Eagerly they grabbed the big black umbrella that had been their grandfathers. I watched them as they struggled to raise it, and as they fumbled trying to share the handle.
 
They squished together trying to make themselves fit under the very center of the dome. Something about my funny little boys and that big umbrella made my eyes unexpectedly fill with warm tears, which ran unrestrained down my already soaked cheeks.
 
The rain intensified. Still, we stayed. The gutter in front of our house had become a small stream. It actually bubbled and rippled as it grew and tumbled toward the water retention basin at the end of the block.
 
Suddenly inspired, I sent the boys inside for a few supplies. In a jiffy they returned from the house with a grocery bag holding the simple construction supplies they had procured from the kitchen.
 
For the next hour we made makeshift tinfoil boats. Then we sailed them skippered by toothpick-and- scotch-tape men. Abby giggled with glee as she watched  her brothers and I race our shiny little vessels down the river of rain.

 Later that night after warm baths and a nourishing dinner I tucked my children into their beds with a heart full of joy. It had been an unforgettable day, thanks to a little inspiration and a summer's rain.
 


 

 

 


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Painting is ŠTom Sierak and used with his permission
by Moon And Back Graphics to construct this set.