If you live in an old house, a part of
your ear is always alert for the sound of running water—when no water should be
running. A while ago I was at my desk, wondering what that sound I heard was.
Rain! It’s been so long that it took a while for it to register on my ear and
my brain. Rain, glorious rain. It actually began to rain gently while I was at
the deli with a friend for lunch, and it rained off and on all afternoon, most
of it gentle, the kind that loosens the soil and soaks in so that if we get a
heavy downpour it won’t just run off. Tonight I hear distant rumblings of thunder. I love a good storm as long as there are no tornadoes.
It looks as though moisture systems
from the west and south could collide over our area, which might lead to
spectacular weather. Supposed to rain all weekend, with totals up to eight
inches. Not bad at all, although there will be flooding, especially at low
water crossings, viaducts, and some intersections. I personally plan to spend
most of the weekend at my desk, reading and working (note that I’m not sure of
the order of those two).
Jordan, Christian, and Jacob are
headed for Waco tomorrow for the Baylor homecoming weekend, which also promises
to be wet and soggy. I admire my daughter’s attitude: “If it rains, we have
ponchos and we’ll make it fun.” I can think of few things I’d like to do less
than sit in the rain at a football game.
Jacob was a hoot this afternoon. Came
home and headed for his tetherball. Came running into the house saying it was gone.
So I asked where he put it last night and he told me, said it’s not there,
insisted I come look. I got as far as the deck, while he was in the driveway—and
got a sheepish look on his face. It was where he’d left it.
I called him in to do have a snack and
do his homework. He wanted ice cream. Me: No, definitely not. Too much sugar.
Jacob: Okay, then I want waffles. Me: No, too much sugar—the waffle argument
went on for a bit, with me holding firm, until he burst out with, “Why do you
care about my health?” The absurdity of what he’d said hit us both at the same
time, and we got the giggles. One good thing about that kid is that he can
laugh at himself. He had sparkling grape juice and popcorn. And then he said, “Juju,
the painter heard every word of our argument.” Oh, the lessons I could have given
at that moment.
By golly, next thing he was outside
with the tetherball again. I ordered him in to do his homework and was rewarded
with the familiar complaint, “Why do you have to yell at me?” Me: because you
don’t listen to me. Jacob, who had gone to look at the bathroom progress: well,
you don’t have to yell so loud. It echoes in here and hurts my ears. I wanted
to ask how his ears survive when four or five boys are playing with the
tetherball. All in all, I decided he gave me the best laugh I’ve had in days.
And he spelled all the words right,
though I circled the word “argue.” He asked if he spelled it wrong, and I said
no, I just thought it was an appropriate word. He said, “Meanie,” but he was smiling.
Tonight? A glass of wine, a book,
listening to the rain, and early to bed.
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