Thursday, May 30, 2013

There is a season

Weather patterns trigger memories.

Warm weather rains bring back one of the most singularly odd memories from growing up. I think I was in high school, and it was late. There were no cars on the streets in the neighborhood, and I went out into the middle of the street to dance and feel the warm rain pelt against my skin. My Dad came out onto the front porch (he had brought a towel out for me) and we sat and had a genuine conversation. I don't remember what we talked about, but it was a conversation bereft of criticism or allusions to the problems wrecking our family. This was the only time I can remember sitting down with him and having a conversation like this. An entire conversation where I didn't cringe from a verbal stab, or feel powerless in any way.

Warm summer rains are the most nostalgically heart-wrenching weather now.

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