Thursday, September 10, 2015

Rainy Day Memories

The rain is pouring down so hard this morning that a river is running along the sides of Main Street. The water is coursing and pouring with little rapids and pools swirling around the storm drains on the sides of the street, drains that are so clogged with early leaf fall and twigs from yesterday's wind that they appear to be gasping for air as they bubble and chug through the unexpected torrent of water.

It is a fantastic day to be at home.

As a little girl, I used to go to visit my Granny quite a bit when I was younger.  She lived in a little single-wide trailer in the midst of the hills and hollows deep in southern West Virginia.  My favorite thing was always on a rainy day, waking to the sound of the pitter patter of raindrops - plink, plink, plink - on the thing roof of her trailer, and nestling back into the blankets of my warm bed to listen as they fell from heaven down to earth.

It was always the best when I woke up before everyone else, so I could lay in the stillness before the morning's coffee making and breakfast bustle began.  Listening to only the raindrops breaking the silence, and wondering at the magic of the world outside our door, while snuggling in the warmth of the quilt that my Granny had made with her gnarled, arthritic hands, just to keep me warm on my visits.

It was a tiny little house, but it was always filled with so much love and comfort and peace.

The rain today makes me miss my Granny, but it also makes me feel a little bit like she is here with me, cheering me on even though I can no longer see her beside me.  That is a comfort and a grace.

It's funny how so many little, innocuous things in life can be that way:  a song on the radio, a scoop of a particular flavor of ice cream, an old movie, a casserole made according to some long-forgotten family recipe that shows up at a church supper in someone else's covered dish.

As I sit here watching the rain plop drop by drop on the last of our summer roses, I am back on that old porch swing with my Granny, stringing beans over a deep bucket and laughing, and feeling loved.

(Photo via CameliaTWU.)

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