No rain in sight. I keep wishing for some more rain. We had a little a few days ago. It comes down heavy and passes quickly. Man, I’m wishing for a long week of overcast rain. I’m the only fool who thinks that way, I mean, who the heck wants a week of rain in the summer at the beach? Killjoy, they would call me. Meh, that’s all right. I want rain. And a very small part of me wants a thunderstorm because the light and the boom and the southern driven rain helps me feel alive.
The Saffron Queen loved watching the tube, especially creepy, twisted horror series. She loved a good horror flick. She said there was nothing like a scary movie to make the pulse race, a jump-scare to make you feel alive. I never did go with her to the scary movies she wanted to see. In fact, she never did go, either with her spouse or on her own. I loaned her one of my few scary movies that she never watched, in favor of streaming what was already on TV. I had hoped we could watch it together, but she showed no interest.
I lean on the balcony rail and study the grass the landlord is desperately trying to regrow ever since he tore up the original grass two years ago. It’s never come back to life no matter how the groundsman seeds and waters and fertilizes. The robins are fine with it because they find worms aplenty. I watch the sprinkler that sends water so far and so high that if a tenant came out their door at just the right time they would be more than sprinkled and more than unhappy at being doused, but boy they sure would feel alive. I look down the patio and see that all the plants have been dug up and tossed aside in favor of a cement statue area the landlord wanted. I wonder if he will replant the yucca and black eyed susans that the birds loved to balance on?
It hasn’t rained and it probably won’t rain to suit me today or tomorrow or the next. The question is, why do I need to stand outside in a downpour to feel alive? What’s wrong with being alive is enough, why ain’t that good enough? Yeah… I’ll get back to you on that.
