Falling asleep on a spring night

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
It is what it is :)

Submitted: May 31, 2012

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Submitted: May 31, 2012

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Taptaptaptaptap… The sound of a freezing rain clashes with the homely warmth I feel curled up with a blanket. Phoooshhhhhh! Outspoken gusts of wind corrupt the tranquil silence in the house. A window pane is all that shields my environment from the force of nature outside. The dark night sky only adds to the depth of the rain, making a clean backyard look as fierce as an untamed forest. The weather attacks my barricade with a vengeance, determined to claim this cozy stronghold. Mere inches from my eyes, leaves dance to dodge raindrops, but it is an unsuccessful attempt. The weather attacks my barricade with a vengeance, determined to claim this cozy stronghold. Nature’s chill, it seems, does not take to being defied.

 

In a fir tree overhanging my domicile, a scrub jay nestles deeper into its own feathers. This rainstorm is nothing new. For six seasons now the jay has endured Northwest rains in the same fashion. There is nothing to do but wait for the end of the rainstorm; flying is impossible now, and besides, it is time for sleep. The trusty fir tree it shelters in has been many a creature’s ally. Its needles shed the wet; its branches offer perches for many. As wind rocks the trunk, it stays resolutely rooted, faithful to those who depend on it. A tree that has survived human land development, being used as a shelter for insects and birds and a battleground for playful squirrels, and worse weather waits patiently for the storm to settle…

 

On the man-made path not fifty feet from the tree and home an elderly woman strolls through the night. No umbrella, no hood. She has found that the heaviest rains bring the freshest air. The gusts of wind create abstract designs in the rain. The drizzle of the innumerous drops of water is a soothing rhythm in her ears. The darkness of night calms the suburb. Where many find disharmony and rage, the lady finds a cleansed soul. Like the tree, she has seen many nights like this one. She cherishes them as a pathway to rebirth and spirit.
 

I have fallen asleep in my warm haven, lulled by the music of the force outside. It has abated slightly; the wind is all but gone, the raindrops shrink to a light shower. The jay sleeps on in the tree. When the rain finally stops, the fir will continue to shed drops of water for days after, reminding anyone around of the downpour. The lady returned to her house after a thirty minute’s walk, feeling invigorated. Like me, she fell asleep that night to the sound of rain on the roof.


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