SUMMER FLASH FICTION SERIES
JUNE 28, 2019
The sun is still shining when the rain starts.
The clouds part ways and sunbeams spill between the blue valleys they create. We sit on the front porch, barefoot, and watch the rain come. We count the thunder claps and make chalk tally marks on the wooden floor beneath us, until the rain gets harder and the thunder gets louder and we can’t keep up anymore. That’s when we get down on our bellies and stretch out our hands. We gather raindrops in our palms and drink them, pretending that we are thirsty voyagers at sea.
Our mother watches from the window. She watches us, and she watches the gray expanse of the sky as the sunbeams shrink and the rain pounds harder and the thunder rolls on like rock ‘n roll drum beats on crackled stereo speakers.
When we are older, we will do the same. We will stand at kitchen windows and with cups of coffee and look out at the rain. We will wonder when to call the children inside- when to usher them into the warmth of the house, away from the rain and the thunder, to slide crisp sandwiches and bowls of red soup in front of them and invent some grand game to keep them busy when they can’t run and play outside. We will bundle them in raincoats when the lightning stops and the fall slows to a drizzle. We will help them step into rain boots a size too big for their little feet and we will splash in the puddles with them. We will do all the things our mother did for us. We will think of her then, and always. We will call her like we think she calls her mother; we hear her on the phone at night, when she thinks we’ve gone to sleep. She talks to hours to the Floridian voice on the other end of the line. She talks about sunshowers and rain puddles and how she hopes the sun will come out in the morning.
We will do all of these things when we are older.
But today we are young, and we are sailors on our front porch ship. We make a crow’s nest of the porch swing and we talk like pirates do in movies. We turn broken tree branches into swords and we have a grand battle, and when the first lightning bolt cuts through the veil of clouds we hurry inside. We sit at the kitchen window. We wait for the rain to pass, for when it does we can be mermaids in the leftover puddles. We can continue our sunshower adventures until the rain dries up and the summer carries on.
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