by The Critic
Writing for the Writers Cramp: First Spring Rain
|The First Spring Rain Over the Years
The sky burst like the water balloons that we threw at each other during hot summer days. The front lawn, with its seemingly millions of long thin blades of grass, became like a sopping wet carpet that held water like a gigantic sponge. The air became visible with the mist that rises after the first spring rain. Spring rains have a unique fragrance all they’re very own. Outside becomes crisp, clean, and fresh.
As a child, I would lay on that sopping outdoor carpet and splash while absolutely unaware of how silly my antics must have appeared. Concerned parents would peer at me through the windows as I accepted the spring rains irresistible invitation to slip and slide on their neatly groomed lawn.
As a teenager, I was eternally annoyed with spring rain, or any other attempt by Mother Nature to lay waste to the hours I had spent doing my hair and make-up. Umbrellas and raincoats provided little or no protection from the havoc that spring rains heaped upon my head. Neatly groomed hair became frizzy and uncontrollable, while make-up would melt and smear. I would have just as soon died than venture outside to be so tortured and tormented by the rain and mist of spring.
As a young woman falling in love I would barely notice the weather; nothing could distract me from the torrents of emotion that consumed my heart and soul. The young men didn’t appear to be deterred by weather conditions under any circumstances.
As a young bride-to-be planning a huge outdoor wedding, I was horrified at the thought of streets becomming rivers. Lighting scrawling across the sky is certainly not the entertainment that I planned for my wedding guest. The only thunder that I wanted to hear that night was our hearts pounding as man and wife.
As a young wife, I was too busy. Uncontrollable spring rains would not interfere with my wifely duties of cooking, cleaning, and preparing for my husband to come home every evening.
As a mother, I often longed to join my children slipping and sliding on the well-groomed lawn turned sopping green carpet during the first spring rains. I would watch them attentively through the windows soaking in their laughter like it was sunshine.
Older and much wiser, I realized that I should have joined my children on those rainy spring days on the front lawn, but I settle now for slipping and sliding with my granddaughter. My children now perch at the window glaring at me like I have lost my mind. My granddaughter is as oblivious as I ever was to parental concern. I am lucky and grateful that the spring rains return every year with annual invitations to lose myself in the soaked green carpet of spring, and the delightful laughter of my grandchild. .