Listening to the rain has always brought peace to my soul. Fond memories of being a kid, lying on the feather bed at my grandmother’s house and listening to the patter of the big fat rain drops on her roof linger, even now, so many decades later. Whenever lightening strikes close to where I am, my memory immediately takes me back to a summer afternoon at my grandma’s. We all were crowded around the front screen door, watching the show in the sky and trying not to act scared out of our wits when the thunder cracked suddenly, seemingly right in the front yard. In truth, that afternoon, it actually did. The old oak tree in the front yard was scarred by the lightening, and the car in the driveway was lifted right off the ground. no damage to the house was done, but the rest of the storms that summer weren’t quite as fun. That day, we learned that lightening could be dangerous and very frightening. No wonder dogs tremble and hide under the bed. God gave them the sense to get to a safe place. The rest of that afternoon and for years to come, we reminisced about the day the lightening struck so close. Even so, a favorite summer pass time was watching a thunder storm from the safety of the front porch, until an especially loud and surprisingly cloase thunder clap sent us squealing into the house. We peered out the windows and were awed by how dark the sky had become, as if it were midnight.. Then when the storm moved on, and the darkness lifted, we rolled up our pants and ran out to the street for a special game reserved for downpours in the city. Memories of playing with home made paper boats in the gutters in front of my own house are treasures. Even city kids could enjoy the wonders of nature.
Today, when it “rains right down,” as my family used to say, I forget about the air conditioning, and open the front door. I love to hear the rain as it pommels the earth. I call Dora over to the door to enjoy the smell of the rain, but she is not impressed. She correctly guesses that there will be no game of fetch out in the yard today, so she ambles over to her favorite place to nap while I write. Thanks for letting me share a memory or two with you. I’d love to hear your memories of summer rain.
Author of “The Bumpy Road to Assisted Living A Daughter’s Memoir”
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