Rain Man

He tried to sneak in the back door, between second and third helpings of rainpuddles and matted clumps of wet dog hair, but I pushed a pile of soggy towels under the dryrotting crack. Crouching under a muddy sky with clouds bursting from its many secret pockets, he poked holes in my roof until the ceiling bowed.When I made a slit in the drywall to relieve the darkwater pond, let it spill, then plunk, plunk, plunk, into a dirty white bucket, he left spores of mold in the attic to march up my nostrils during the night, now blocked by a sliver of silver duct tape stuck over the opening.

 

Failing an above-board attack, he slithered into the crawl space, taking eight inches of water with him, just high enough to cover the electrical box that serves my washer and dryer so I'd have to bag up all those wet clothes and feed shiny quarters into somebody else's machines.

While I was at the laundromat, he huffed and puffed until the tarp I'd planted on the roof in the howling storm lifted at the edges, forcing me back up the rickety ladder to batten it down again. While I was up there, I found all the leaves he'd stripped from nearby trees and planted in my gutters, causing the water to back up and spill into my tenant's light fixture. He laughed as I struggled to clear the damn, bloodied knuckles, my eyes covered with strings of wet hair, but I beat him. Standing at the peak I raised my fist, cursed him as rusty water found its way through trenches and raced down the driveway toward the street to become one with the rain.

He said nothing, but I'm sure it was his laugh I heard as I reached for the handle of my camper to retrieve massage sheets, felt the surge of electricity charge up my arm and down my bare feet before making it's way to my brain. Let go.

 

For three long weeks he hounded me, tried to break my spirit. He blew out a transformer, took out my phone lines, flooded my apartment, and terminated my broadband connections, yet I refused to let him take me down. Not this time. Not this year. Sure,I was shaken, weakened to the brink of S.A.D. but I held out, knowing my Savior would return, and I was right. She showed up two days ago, kicked Depression's dark and dreary ass to Kingdom Come (or perhaps the east coast from what I hear) and kissed me awake. Hand in hand, we walked outside where she led me to the chair by the pond in the back yard and tenderly wrapped her arms around my trembling body until the color came back into my pale cheeks. While I basked in her holy presence, she sucked the moisture out of my house, my yard, my soul--replaced it with dappled light. We spent the whole day together and then she danced on my walls at sunset before saying goodnight and promising to return tomorrow and the day after that for as far as the weatherman can see.

 

Last night I dreamed of His return, the cold, damp eyes and heartless rendering of wicked winds. I woke in a sweat, breathless, shaking. From the windowsill I heard a whisper.

"Let there be light," she said, and there was light.

And I saw the light; that it was good, and that it divides the good days from the bad. And together we named the light, Bliss and the darkness we called Depression.

And the evening and the morning were the first day of recovery.

Comments

[Cathy]

Ah so that's were you been, Here I'm thinking you won the lottery and was seeing the world :) Man you have been having it tough.

If your His ever return, tell your Savior to put a certain part his anatomy where his kidneys are. He'll leave you alone after that.

But I do hope thing get better for you.

[Steph]

I hate to post another comment so soon after the last one, but I, too, was wondering where you'd been! Glad to see you're back.

[Fran]

My own rain problems pale in comparison to yours, dear El. Lovely, deep entry.

[penni]

yours is one of those blogs i check in on daily...i didn't want to be forward, but since my predecessors posted like-minded thoughts i, too, was wondering where you were.

you've been in a very wet place, indeed. i am glad the clouds have parted long enough for you to post such a compelling thread.

peace,
penni

[Daisy]

Sheer poetry! Glad to see you back :-)

[Kris]

Ellie, like the first spring shower, how good it is to have you back! Glad you could find your way out of the water and into the air to breathe. Inhale........exhale.....