a morning meander

Hello,

It’s been awhile. 

I woke up early.  Still dark outside.  Rain pattering on the window.  A car just went past, headlights on. 

That’s unusual.  Our street is very quiet.  Especially at this time of day.  I wonder where they are going? 

Maybe they have an early flight?  Hawaii?  A business trip?

The wind picked up for a second, causing the rain to splatter, rat-ta-tat-tat, harder on the window.  A spurt of passion that has now, once again died down.  Just peaceful rain, puttering along.

Sort of like me, I guess.

HA!  As I wrote that, it’s like the weather was reading over my shoulder, because, seriously, there was a huge gust, an exuberant surge of wind, so strong that I could hear the branches of the garry oak outside rattle and shake like maracas.  It was like the wind was answering me, saying, not on your life sweetie, we are just giving you a lull, a brief respite, an early morning amble.  There is a lot of excitement in store for you.

Made me smile. 

I’m still smiling.

David and Amy are away on a stay-cation.  I hope it isn’t raining where they are.  Rain is nice, but when one is on vacation, it’s nice to be able to bumble around without having to huddle under an umbrella.  Actually, I don’t know if David and Amy own an umbrella.  I’ve never seen them carrying one, and it rains here a lot.

I generally don’t carry one either.  The only time I do, is when I am out with Don, because he’s always got one or two in his car.  And he has this idea that when I’m with him, it’s his manly duty to keep me dry.  It’s quite sweet, really. 

Funny too, because I get this imp in me sometimes and when he stops his car, he’ll say something like, “You stay there, nice and dry.  I’ll go get the umbrella out of the back and come around for you.“

“Okay,“ I say.  “Thanks, honey.“ My head tucked down so he can’t see the grin that is starting to form.  He smiles, trustingly, happily, because he’s the big man, taking care of his woman.  Then, he’ll tuck his head down like a turtle, disappearing his neck entirely, into the collar of his jacket and hop out of the car to get that umbrella. 

The minute his door shuts, mine flies open and I hop out and head jauntily down the sidewalk, letting the rain fall where it may. 

I hear his panicked squawk.  I don’t look behind me.  I don’t have to.  I can feel his agitated, worried fumbling, as he tries to disengage the umbrella from all the junk back there.  “Meg!“ he’ll yelp.  “Wait!  You’ll get wet!“ 

But I keep walking, long legged strides. 

I hear him run to catch up to me.  Having to hold the umbrella in front of him like a shield so the wind won’t turn it inside out. “Meg!“

And then he’s there beside me.  Wielding that large black umbrella with it smooth curving wood handle.  There he is tucking in close, wrapping his arm around me, holding the umbrella slightly lopsided so I get most of the cover, even though I don’t care if I get wet. 

There he is, not even grouchy that I foiled his plan to keep me safe and saran wrapped and out of the elements.  He’s just slightly confused, perturbed, that things didn’t go according to his plan.  That despite all his valiant efforts I still got a little wet.  “Why didn’t you wait?“ he’ll say, and I’ll look at his sweet familiar face and laugh, because he’s so fun to tease and makes me feel so loved.

I just looked up.  It’s lighter now.  The night darkness, gone.  Not quite full fledged daylight, but getting there.  A raven squawked.  The rain isn’t splattering any more, but I can still hear the run off in the drain that comes down from the roof and along the outside wall of my writing room. 

I think I’ll go back upstairs now, and tuck back into bed, pull the covers up around my neck and maybe drift back to sleep for another half hour or so.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Tuesday, March 08, 2011 in