I owe you all an apology. I have let the rain of life stop areas of my life that I have invested time in, creativity in, and love in. Rain is not all bad. I know this. But, sometimes, it can be overwhelming and time consuming. The older I get, the more time consuming rain (worry) becomes - like a physical barrier to productiveness and proactiveness. I know this, too.
I hope you will forgive me my short lived start and my long break. I hope you will come back by to visit. I will try hard to not let the rain seep in so much again as to dampen the spirits of my writing.
This is some of what I have learned during this storm.
The other night we were sitting around the dinner table when Libby looked up and announced that it was going to rain tonight.
She smiled from ear to ear. That one tooth on the left side of her mouth, not quite caught up with the rest, makes her look a little comical – like a kid – like she should. With her mouth closed, she looks older, a rare beauty with olive skin, tan even in winter, rich chocolate hair and eyes the color of the stone in her great, great, great grandmother’s necklace I wore yesterday. The ancestor she looks like. A misty, luminescent, green.
“It is going to rain and rain,” she spouted, “don’t you like the rain? Mom? Haley? Don’t you like to go to sleep while it is raining?” Wow, I thought, this is so grown up – the realization of comfort in rain.
We have a great house for rain. It is an old Sear’s kit home. Born in 1927 – over eighty years old. The rain hits the old windows with a metallic tap, tap, tap. In the middle of the night, it sounds like the pins on my red magnetic pincushion have freed themselves and are dancing on the window panes, tap, tap, tap.
The rain runs funny squirrely lines down the old hand poured windows – warping even more, the images that lie beyond it. The old house appears to weep as images on the outside are distorted beyond recognition through the water, through the glass. We know what is there, but only from experience.
We all seem to sleep better when it rains into the night. We all seem to find some comfort in this sound.
Life rains sometimes and often storms. Where do we seek shelter? Family. Where do we seek slumber? In each other’s arms. This may sound too cliché, too contrite. But, where do clichés come from if not the realities of our experience and existence. Clichés I will allow, for now, and edit later while finding, like I ask my students, new ways to say old, yet meaningful, things.
When life rains, the windows are not cool to the touch inside our hearts and our minds, but the idea is the same. Our vision is somewhat blurred and distorted in the storm. The decisions made are often those made by trying to see what is on the other side. What will come next? What will come last? We can’t quite make it out. Which window will we be able to climb through, and what will be on the other side? Is there constancy in the views from our windows, the experience of knowing what is on the other side despite the rain? Will I know, from my experience the best window to look through? To open? Does it matter?
NOTE: I am trying to get a hold of everyone who commented on my blog to send out apron patterns - please forward me your e-mail address so I can catch up and make up. ~Kelly