The Sound the Rain Makes
It is an Evan Williams (with a splash) and a La Flor Dominicana Double Ligero, rain-soaked night. The occasional brave lightning bug dances in the distance. I picture them with tiny umbrellas, waltzing about in the quest for love. Silly bugs, I think out loud.
Emerson played the ‘”I’m scared card” into my bed and is sleeping. Letting him “work" the situation from time to time is one of the pleasures of parenthood. We both know the score and leave it at that. We did the 7pm, rainy night at Chuck E. Cheese’s tonight. (Yeah, I’m probably a bit of a masochist). It went well though. For every obnoxious, unattended child we encountered, we met an equally polite and well-mannered one. That is a rarity and, as such, gave me a glimmer of hope for mankind. I am a realist by trade—by this, I mean cynic—and took great pleasure in the witness of decency.
I did the Dalton’s/Tokyo take-out thing last night and got away for an hour. Good Woodfords. Good draughts. Good non-thinking time. When I left the bar at twilight, it was drizzling and calm. This time of year in Nashville, it is like the Seattle of the South. Rains all the time. The result is breathtaking with lush greenery all around. My sense of geography is what you might expect, but these deep green rolling hills of Middle Tennessee are what I picture Ireland to look like. Perfect. Particularly, a hill overlooking the Blockbuster on Highway 70 South; and a seductive bend on I-40 between exits 199 and 196.
(The Double Ligero is done and I’ve broken out a Gran Habano #3).
Thanks to the daylong showers, my porch is thankfully void of the obligatory multitude of flying and crawling bugs. No June bugs to dive bomb me and piss me off. True cause for celebration. I hate a fucking June bug—and I don’t hate much at all.
Aunt R1 arrives tomorrow night from Evansville and will take my Boy with her to Augusta for the week. He will get to meet some very special relatives in town from Colorado and Nebraska. I’m not able to make the trip. I will miss him like an appendage, but could not possibly deny him the adventure. He is excited and will be in exceptional hands. But it is a difficult thing. He is a much-loved boy.
It is raining harder now. I like the sound. Coming through the trees, hitting the aggregate driveway and asphalt, it sounds like applause and makes me happy. Yes, the rising and falling of applause.
How I love the rain.
Emerson played the ‘”I’m scared card” into my bed and is sleeping. Letting him “work" the situation from time to time is one of the pleasures of parenthood. We both know the score and leave it at that. We did the 7pm, rainy night at Chuck E. Cheese’s tonight. (Yeah, I’m probably a bit of a masochist). It went well though. For every obnoxious, unattended child we encountered, we met an equally polite and well-mannered one. That is a rarity and, as such, gave me a glimmer of hope for mankind. I am a realist by trade—by this, I mean cynic—and took great pleasure in the witness of decency.
I did the Dalton’s/Tokyo take-out thing last night and got away for an hour. Good Woodfords. Good draughts. Good non-thinking time. When I left the bar at twilight, it was drizzling and calm. This time of year in Nashville, it is like the Seattle of the South. Rains all the time. The result is breathtaking with lush greenery all around. My sense of geography is what you might expect, but these deep green rolling hills of Middle Tennessee are what I picture Ireland to look like. Perfect. Particularly, a hill overlooking the Blockbuster on Highway 70 South; and a seductive bend on I-40 between exits 199 and 196.
(The Double Ligero is done and I’ve broken out a Gran Habano #3).
Thanks to the daylong showers, my porch is thankfully void of the obligatory multitude of flying and crawling bugs. No June bugs to dive bomb me and piss me off. True cause for celebration. I hate a fucking June bug—and I don’t hate much at all.
Aunt R1 arrives tomorrow night from Evansville and will take my Boy with her to Augusta for the week. He will get to meet some very special relatives in town from Colorado and Nebraska. I’m not able to make the trip. I will miss him like an appendage, but could not possibly deny him the adventure. He is excited and will be in exceptional hands. But it is a difficult thing. He is a much-loved boy.
It is raining harder now. I like the sound. Coming through the trees, hitting the aggregate driveway and asphalt, it sounds like applause and makes me happy. Yes, the rising and falling of applause.
How I love the rain.
posted by Ryan at 1:20 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home