Rainy Day

I am loving the rain. It is falling, dripping, splattering, splooshing, swishing, singing, and wetting everything. The air is full of it and loving it. You can sense how the air embraces and dances with it. The trees stretch their arms out and let it shower them with its relief. It cleanses. It renews life. The green brightens against the grey sky, it's leaves billowing approval of a wet presence.

I am blessed with this rainy day. A day to myself. To recharge. To smell the goodness that falls from the grey sky. The world is not as black and white as most would paint it. The grey sky brings relief as do the tears that cleanse my eye. The rain brings life and goodness to all who seek it. To all who accept it.
It comes in rhythms.. downpours that beat fast upon the porch and now a slower refrain. softer. I can see how musicians of long ago could use the rainstorms refrain to help them compose. There are fierce moments of intense action and then a quiet steady rhythm that softens my soul.
I close my eyes. I let it in. I let the rain cleanse my tired soul, rinsing me of good intentions. Letting the me I am shine through.

I don't have to be anything more than where life, my life leads me. Others want me to be their life. But I am the captain of my ship. We may be on the same sea, but I will steer my own ship.
Now there is a wind. It is gentle and slight. The soft grey clouds are growing lighter. Their darkest moments have passed over us.

The gutters rattle and churn. The screens fill with droplets. The frogs begin their chorus, one answering the other. And in all of this clatter, the birds sit quiet.

I look out onto the cedar and see droplets holding on, stretching long and then letting go to the puddle below.
With the slowing of the waterfall, the birds have come back to the feeder.  I hear their chatter. I hear their questions. They use the fresh water to preen their feathers. They join one another in the swell of the birdbath.

I know I am under the cover of the porch, but I want to run outside and run through the streams that flow along the street. I want to splash my bare feet until the skin on my toes wrinkles. I want to feel the years melt away. I want to laugh with a sister I never knew. I want to prod my brothers into action so that they will laugh with me, splash me, and call me names. I want to remember a more naive time.

But I don't. I sit here and feel of the great spirit that surrounds me. I am never alone when I'm with Nature. I never have to apologize or feel "different" because of my choices. Nature gives all who ask affirmation. She is our mother.

Across the fence, near the creek I see the cedar breathing in and out. I smell her sweetness as she lets her contentment known. I think I can see her watching me, her arms dancing  purposefully in the wind to let me know, she sees me. I can see her reaching, always reaching toward the sun, and today I will let her teach me how she does this so well. You can't even tell. And yet, weekly she is taller, her branches are fuller, her reach is far greater than her roots. And her arms are home to so many. What a beautiful life she has shaped from the rain.

It is a good thing I have done today. Sit. Listen. No performance chores. Just see. Just hear.  Be me.

Now the rain is gone. For now its story is over. It will come again. I hope I will be here to listen.

Time Lines and the Magic of Friendship

Penny Anne Twister  January 2006

It's a new year and that would make most of us giddy with anticipation for new experiences and new friends and a new way of life.  With the new year comes a determination to overcome. But I am not giddy. I am in a holding pattern. Still,  I love this time of year because of the calmness it brings - thoughtful repose,  a sort of hopeful wisdom that promises to get me through the inevitable loss of my Penny's time with me.  Timelines...You know they all have a beginning and an end.

Today I walked Penny 2 miles in hopes that she would eat. I watched her tremble when she paced the kitchen and felt her coo at my hand across her soft coat. But she would not eat the fresh chicken I cooked her, or the rice, or the cheese. She did eat a slice of bread.

This is the time of year when we begin to think of time and the lines it draws on our lives.   I remember on New Year's past how I vowed to run with her more. Her sleek trim body was made to run.  My Cross country daughter used to take her on six mile runs and when home, the dog would beg for more. That was before I hurt my hip and running was no longer an option for me. That was before she turned 85 in dog years. Now she is happy for the walks where she can use her sense of smell. The days we miss walking arthritis seeps into her bones and brings a stiffness to her walk, a pain to her vacant stare that haunts me to no end.

I meant for this to be about the magic of life, not the death of a friend but I suppose death holds its own magic. Death reminds us of our own time lines on this earth. It reminds us to remember the good and hold onto it like a life line.

Penny came to us in 2002. Summer had gone away almost 2 years before and it took us time to open our hearts again. Summer was a Vizsla and Golden Retriever mix that someone had abandoned on the back roads of Mobile, Alabama. We loved her disposition and her friendship. She became a part of my children's childhood. She became part of us.

After her passing, we decided on a pure bread Vizsla because of the need for my Cross Country daughter to have a running companion and because of the short haired coat. I so love her color and her energy level has kept our home lively. Her friendship has kept me sane. Vizsla's are known for their intelligence but it her ability to emotional bond with us that makes her so extraordinary. At nine p.m., while we watched our television show, Penny will set herself down in front of our chair and "arr wah woo.. whine", speak, whatever you want to call it until we carry her bed to her room and tuck her in.

Like most memories the magic will come to me as I pull the past 15 years of her life together. It will come to me as I reflect on the many different adventures we have had and how having her in our home has given us all a glimpse of loyalty, dignity, and expectations of love. And hopefully while I write this tribute to my dear friend, I will discover that extraordinary magic that comes when we explore the life we live, the love we share and how it has changed us all.