Monday, October 5, 2009

Southern Rain

I miss the southern rain.

The moments on rainy days in which I would slip outside, into the quiet the porch offered...until the door would swing open and my name be uttered by a little voice, pulling me away from my thoughts and back into the house, back to UNO, Connect Four, checkers, and the little lives that hold my heart.

Hoping my outdoor friends had found shelter.

Blue plastic chairs in the carport. Moments treasured not for spoken words, but for the simple gift of presence.

Southern rain is different. It's more powerful--it begs you come and sit a while and listen to its sound, to let it speak to you. It's appreciated, and it gives you an excuse to stop, to slow down. Here, we put on our rain boots, pop open our umbrellas, let out a sigh, and trudge through it. When it rains in Shreveport, things slow down, sometimes to a stop. There rain is like an old friend; its presence is appreciated because its visits are sparse, and it always stays a while to catch up.


It's raining there tonight.
Boy, do I miss the southern rain.

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