it's raining again
I miss him tonight, more than I usually do, and I don't really know why. Maybe because my daughter turned sixteen and he wasn't there to dance with her, or maybe because my son, the boy who looks nothing like him yet carries his name, is starting to give me glimpses of the man he's growing into and what I'm seeing has no logical reason to be as familiar as it is.
It's raining tonight. Maybe that's it.
He hated the rain. I think it reminded him of where he spent his youngest years, years that were nothing short of torturous, really, so it was understandable that he didn't want any reminders of them, even if the reminder was something as innocent as rain.
It rained the day we found out he would die sooner than anybody should.
It rained the day his mother sliced his arm open and impaled his hand with a pair of gardening shears.
He didn't like the rain. It was kind of hard to blame him.
It's raining tonight. Maybe that's it.
He hated the rain. I think it reminded him of where he spent his youngest years, years that were nothing short of torturous, really, so it was understandable that he didn't want any reminders of them, even if the reminder was something as innocent as rain.
It rained the day we found out he would die sooner than anybody should.
It rained the day his mother sliced his arm open and impaled his hand with a pair of gardening shears.
He didn't like the rain. It was kind of hard to blame him.
6 Comments:
I can't blame him either.
It's almost enough to make ME hate the rain.
xoxo
I don't blame him at all...I would have hated the rain too.
HUGS to you.
(CYPM over on NOTI, BTW)
((Lemony))
your first two paragraphs got me right in the heart. your words are like silk, lemony. i love them. no wonder he loved you. he is in my thoughts as droplets hit my window now too.
♥
Your stories about him are always so powerful and moving. ((lemony))
(((Lemony)))
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