August Rain

A Short Story Of Revisiting Childhood

I’m 46, and I’m sitting on my porch sipping lukewarm coffee winding down from another long emotional week as the sounds of a perfect August storm engulfs me.

I close my eyes and listen to the gentle rain kissing off of the gutters: that consistent hollow echo as it hits the aluminum and falls to the ground.

A faint rumble of distant thunder that has now accompanied this storm brings a strange calmness.

These sounds bring me back to a simpler time as a young boy, maybe 10 years old, sitting in my room waiting for the rain to end so I could go back outside and continue playing.

Never did I imagine while sitting on my bed angrily staring at the rain as it was beating down onto the roof that as an adult I would embrace this memory, quietly wishing to bring myself back and live a day like I was having then.

It’s the smell and sounds that only a summer rainfall can bring.

I recall the sound of my Dad’s car pulling up onto the wet driveway.

The feel of the cool breeze that just for a moment replaced the oppressive heat.

Those simple things you never noticed and took for granted now becomes the place and time you wish for now.

--

I open my eyes and I am back in the present moment, the rain is slowing a bit now.

The birds are out and about chirping as the sun peeks out just for a second through the clouds.

A hummingbird passes by our front porch flowers but I’m not quick enough to get a video of it as it speeds by.

--

I breathe deep, close my eyes again, and my mind races me back to 10 year old me.

The storm is over, and I am running downstairs, whisking past my Dad while giving him a half hearted hello.

I hastily I ask my Mom if I can go back outside but really not listening to her answer as I grab my baseball glove and head across the street to have a catch, or just to sit on the curb and listen to music from the old 4 speaker radio we would bring outside.

I can hear the thunder roll on in the distance: a warning that the storm really isn’t over, it just took a breather.

I’m just an impatient child hoping it holds off: I can deal with a drizzle…I just hope that my mom doesn’t notice it and makes me come back inside.

Early 80’s rock and roll that plays from that boom box in the background is only interrupted by the chatter of 10 year old boys and the popping of leather as baseball meets glove.

The skies darken a bit and I know the storm is coming, I look up and wish quietly: “Just give it a little while longer please!”.

I feel a few drops but ignore it, the drizzle happens but no worries here: we just cover the radio with an old shirt and play on.

My Mom looks out from the screen door but doesn’t call me in, maybe embracing the quiet herself at that point.

A few more minutes and dinner will be ready, time to hope that after the meal is over I can once again go back outside to start the process over again, if only for a few more precious hours before dark.

--

As quickly as it takes for me to open my eyes I’m 46 again and back in the present.

I silently ask myself just how much I’ve taken for granted in my life, always wishing for things that didn’t matter while ignoring the simply remarkable that happens around me in the background.

One day I will remember this particular moment and wish I had this time back as well, when simplicity took precedent over nonsensical issues.

I think how I can use my time left to truly enjoy and appreciate what I have around me, while blocking out the white noise of everyday frustrations that lead to not enjoying these little moments or the people that mean the most.

I take another sip of my coffee; it’s colder now but I don’t care.

That white noise tries to invade my calm, but I push it aside.

I close my eyes once more.

It’s the perfect summer storm, and I smile because I’m 10 years old again.