The rain started yesterday. It poured. I was glad for that. We really need the rain. This morning the rain continues. It is a heavy rain. I can hear it on the windows and the roof. It is coming from the south. I had to close the back door as the kitchen floor was getting wet.

Henry’s eye sockets look great. The swelling is gone, and the red has faded. He has stopped scratching them. I’m still putting the salve on, but he no longer minds. Speaking of better, my leg is almost there. It still hurts when I lift it in certain directions like when getting into the car, but I just wince and don’t moan as loudly.

When I was a kid, I loved rainy days. Sitting in my room, I always felt comforted by the rain as if it had arms spread around me, holding me tight. The lamp lit against the darkness felt cozy. Most times I read but sometimes I napped falling sleep to the sounds of the rain.

My father once said I was the most aggressive of his children. I think what he saw as aggression was just me following my dreams, me, letting nothing deter me. I always think I was born exactly the right time. The world was changing. Choices were widening. I knew I could be anything I wanted. I was only eleven when I knew I would travel the world. I was thirteen when I knew I would be a Peace Corps volunteer. Lots happened in between, but I never lost sight of what I wanted and where I’d be.

My 60th class reunion is this weekend. I am having trouble wrapping my head around it. I don’t think of myself as old though sometimes a look in the mirror takes me aback, but I blame it on the lightning.

This entry was posted on September 25, 2025 at 1:16 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. Both comments and pings are currently closed.