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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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