Wednesday, July 1, 2015
Last night the rain came hard. My oldest daughter got up at a crack of thunder. She smiled at us. More time with Mom and Dad. Her sister, so deep in her sleep, nothing could rouse her. I opened the garage door. Started downstairs. Come on, I said. She hesitated. I said, it’s beautiful, a hard rain at night. Come with me. I went on, trusting she would follow or that I would be okay if she didn’t. I have to accept some things. Standing in the garage, the rain roaring in the driveway, I looked across the street. Beneath a tree stood shadows. A car passed, wipers beating fiercely. Headlights showed a deer and two fawns. My daughter came to my side. Her mother behind her. I pointed. Look, I said. What, my daughter asked. I held my finger extended, leaned into her. She looked. Then saw. The deer stood beneath the tree. The rain fell harder. Wind blew. Lightning. Thunder. The deer stood still. We did too. I breathed as easy as the little girl still up in bed. My daughter whispered, will they be okay? The rain and the darkness were the answer.