This is actually a true story about a French Canadian Farm girl. It is dedicated to Loleina, (her Hawaiian name).
Most people don't like the rain. I love the rain! The sound of big, fat drops on the windowpane, the warmth of it on a hot summer day.
I remember a day, when I was about 7 or 8 years old, walking home from my friend’s house on the dirt frontage road of our farm. I could see off in the distance either my brother or father on the tractor, going through our fields. Grasshoppers buzzed in the fields. The sparrows were in a hurry as usual, always having somewhere to go to. There was a sudden gust of hot wind behind me and I turned to look over my shoulder. An arising thunderhead bloomed high and higher in the afternoon sky.
With my hands shielding my eyes, I stood there to smell the earthy-scented wind and watched the thunderhead now almost over me so high in the otherwise bright blue, clear sky. It wouldn’t be long until it blocked the sun.
Another gust of wind rushed through the fields of wheat towards me. This one had a hint of moisture or was it my eager wish.
It was hot. The earth along our dirt road was cracked and baked into earth chips. Not having any of my ‘good’ clothes on, my only concern, with the next gust of wind, each gust now longer and stronger, beating the rain home to avoid getting wet vanished from my thoughts.
I turned to walk towards my house, and with my stick, I whacked! whacked! the heads off all the dandelions who dared cross my path. Take that you fuzzy heads, I mused. The guillotine for you!
Then the sun was blocked out by the shadow of the cloud now racing past me toward my home as if to say, ‘I’ll win girl!’
‘Okay, you! But only you!’
I walked over to the drainage ditch and climbed up on the crossover steps to the top of the fence. I stood on the wood platform and looked out over the fields, flat and smooth for as far as the eye can see, the waves of wheat now in a dark green shadow. The thunderhead was spread out directly over me. Suddenly, there was a light crackle of running lightening from inside the thunderhead, like a conductor tapping his baton to get the ensemble’s attention.
In silence, I waited. We all waited - me, the earth, the wheat, even the beheaded dandelions, as if to revenge their recent decapitation. The sparrows were long gone, seeking shelter from the brewing storm. Even the wind was suddenly holding its breath, not knowing where to go.
A moment passed and then another. You could tell the majesty of the moment was building, building… then, crack! boom! A triple fork dashed to the earth. The rumbling intensified as the gray mass fell in sheets towards me. The grey gates hidden in the undersides opened, releasing their fury.
I smiled and said to myself, ‘Man, I am going to get wet!’
... Even to this day, on hot summer days, I can’t resist going out and standing in the rain.