All day, a song has been playing in my head. Like the Rain, Clint Black. I can hear it as I write this.
I never liked the rain until I walked through it with you.
I’ve always loved the rain, and doubly so since moving to sunny California. The weather’s been sort of strange here in SoCal for the past couple days and this morning we woke to cloudy skies and went pavement.
The morning went on and we realized the need to put one of the tops on C’s jeep. Lightning and thunder. Not too bad, but enough to make C’s heart race and his breathing change. I know the signs.
I was standing in the back of the jeep while we tried to attach the top and a clap of lightning lit up the grey sky. The thunder was immediate. It struck somewhere close, so close sound ceases for a moment.
C screamed out and dropped to the concrete floor. I was so startled I almost fell out of the back of the jeep. He started to commando crawl across the floor while covering his head and screaming.
Get him.
I had to get to him. He was wedged between the wall and the door as I tried to calm him down. Getting to him takes time when he’s in a flashback. It’s like wandering a maze until his eyes light with recognition.
Every thunder cloud that came was one more I might not get through.
Do you know where you are?
No.
Do you know who I am?
Yes.
Like the Rain played in my head while hail beat the garage door and rain poured. Thunder. Lightning. We laid there on the cement, but under him was sand. I know it all too well.
He’s asleep right now, and the sun is shining. I always liked the rain, until I walked through it in the sand.
