The other day summer rain showers arrived during the boys’ afternoon nap. If you live, or have ever lived on the East coast, you know this rain. It comes rather suddenly after a sunny blue morning. The day abruptly turns gray and we are inundated with fire-hose rain. A few hours later, the sun returns bright as ever. The only trace of the storm can be found in the thick humid air it take effort to breathe.
We haven’t had a lot of these showers this year. Reporters warn of an impending drought. Max and Jack don’t have the memories to process and remember seasons, which shift so subtly in Florida. Here, we do not have the four seasons I was taught when I was a child: winter, spring, summer and fall. We have a rainy season, a hurricane season and a tourist season.
The rain surprised my sons as they had played trucks during the morning forecast. There was great excitement when they woke from their nap to pounding rain. I was greeted with much hoopla as they pointed out the window and excitedly listed everything getting wet. I lifted them out of their cribs, expecting to go to diaper changes and snack, but little Jack had other ideas.
He toured our home, climbing on furniture or asking to be lifted to peer out of every window in our whole house. Not just a window in every room, but every window in every room. Each was both a confirmation of his hypothesis and a delightful surprise: it was raining everywhere!
I think back to the restaurant that used to sit on top of the World Trade Towers. I never went, but always planned to. The things we plan. It was called Windows to the World. Even though those windows have been broken for a decade and their view is utterly irreplaceable, Jack managed to peer out of them with wonder and excitement. He saw the whole world.
It was raining everywhere.
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