The Gift
It was August. It had not rained for several weeks. The sky was a cloudless blue all day and the temperature was rising to over one hundred degrees by the middle of the afternoon. It was so hot we kids didn’t even want to go outside and play.
I could tell that Dad and Mom were worried. The garden was about done for the summer, everything dried up except for a few tomatoes. Dad said the corn up in the field was “firing,” the leaves turning brown and curling, and if we didn’t get some rain soon, the crop was going to be mighty slim, and we might not have enough to see us through the winter.
The creek had dried up, and the spring where we watered the stock was not filling back up like it usually did after drawing water. It had always been a reliable source before, but now it looked doubtful, getting lower every day. The cistern up by the house was almost empty, and it looked like we might have to buy water for it.
The lack of rain made wide cracks in the ground. Dust fogged in the air every time a car passed, settling on everything and making it hard for Mom to keep things clean in the house.
The pasture field was drying up and the cows were eating the camphorweeds, making their milk taste like medicine. During the hottest part of the day, the stock stayed under the shade trees along the creek, continually fighting the aggravating flies with switching tails.
When night came, we all slept upstairs where it was a little cooler, but it still was hard to sleep well because of the heat. We usually all were in bed by eight thirty or nine. That particular night, Dad thought it might rain soon because the roosters were crowing in the middle of the day, and some said that was a sure sign. Just before he went upstairs, he walked outside and looked up over the hill west of the house, but said there was no sign of a cloud anywhere, so it probably meant no rain again.
After I crawled into my bed, I thought how good it would be if it would just rain, even a little bit. I dozed off and sorta woke up in a little while, thinking I had heard thunder off to the west but deciding it was my imagination.
I again dozed, later awakening, and, this time, I did hear the rumblings of thunder far off, thinking it was just a false alarm. Again.
The thunder kept getting louder and closer, and suddenly a cool breeze wafted through the open window. A flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed almost immediately by a loud clap of thunder, and I knew something had been struck close by. The wind started gusting and a few drops of rain hit against the windowpane. I arose, looked outside, and saw the billowing dust dancing across the barnyard, as the lightning again flashed, with the peach trees bending with the wind and the oak tree limbs scraping against the side of the house.
The patter increased until it sounded like a waterfall hitting the top of the house, and the wind and the rain became a roar, the house shaking in the fury. I hurriedly closed the window and lay back on my bed, listening and enjoying the sound of wind and the crashing of the thunder as the storm continued, with a feeling of security coming over me, realizing that the cleansing, healing water was soaking up the soil in the corn field as it ran between the rows, the cistern was filling, the creek was rising, and the pasture would again be green as the tortured earth was revived by the refreshing moisture.
I dozed off again but later awoke to hear the thunder mumbling farther on east, and I knew most of the rain was over at our place, glad that the neighbors would also benefit as the rain went on.
I opened my window, feeling the refreshing cool from outside. I could hear the trees dripping and the creek running down in the pasture field, and the weakening lightning brightening the sky to the east.
I heard Dad and Mom talking in the next room. Dad said, “We’ll be all right now for awhile.”
Just before I slept again, a contented feeling engulfed me and I was very thankful for the gift of the rain.
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