A Summer When It Rained

I remember a summer when it rained like this somewhere else a long time ago. Interminable it must have been for our parents, day after day for weeks on end in the middle of our vacations, but we were children then, and kids seem to take all kinds of stuff in stride. For us it was enough to be together on that hill by the lake under the trees.

I remember the sound of drops falling on the sandy ground, leaving little yellow dots behind. And I remember how when a breeze would blow, their tempo would accelerate into a sudden cacophony of drops landing on the ground and on the roof of the camper where we were holed up playing board games.

And I when it rains like this now, on a lucky day I remember the smell of that wet sand and those soaked pine needles knocked from the canopy by that rain during that summer long ago.

11:16:49 PM   permalink: []   feedback:   comments: []  

I Needed Her To Say That

We were talking about things. Well, I was talking about things. Ok. I was complaining — a phenomenon not particularly uncommon around here.

It was time to go to bed. Trudy was under the covers reading a book to the light of a small lamp on the table beside the bed. The warm glow of the incandescent bulb lit her face. I was in the bathroom, periodically poking my head out from the doorway. The white glow of florescent bulbs fell onto the floor about me.

I was complaining about razors — I just had to buy another one and face that only-in-America challenge of deciding which ultra-high-tech blades I wanted to go with my sleek super-sleek-plastic handle coated in ultra-cool-looking chrome like stuff, an exercise I'm doomed to repeat many times in my life.

And I was complaining about water filters and the fact that a few months after you buy the things, they've changed the design of the containers to make them look even more ultra-high-tech and the filters have changed accordingly and the old ones are nowhere to be found.

And I was talking about mops with heads that you can't replace. And I was thinking about computers that you can't upgrade. And ...

I stuck my head out from the doorway to say something and Trudy was looking up at me. She smiled.

It must be hard, she said.

I paused for a moment, but I knew what she was about to say. Hard to be me?

She laughed. Yes, it must be so hard. Then she added, It doesn't have to be that way, you know.

She was right. It's true. And I so needed her to say that right then.

8:28:50 AM   permalink: []   feedback:   comments: []