Just A Game

22. Celebration

An aroma of rain floated in the air. My father and I stared out from the back porch watching inches of water fall from the gray and black sky in tiny droplets. The thunderstorm had been going on for hours and it annoyed my mother having to cancel her plans but my father and I didn't mind. Her vacation here in Florida was ruined because of the storm but it wasn't that big of a deal the way we saw it. We had just finished listening to the battery-powered radio, a news reporter informing us that all streets were closed and that we should stay indoors. Electricity was out in most areas which was unfortunate for the ones who didn't know this storm was approaching and couldn't prepare themselves.

About half an hour ago my mom insisted that I'd come inside and that it was too dangerous to be standing out here but I couldn't help it. Watching how branches broke from the trees and the flowers my mom had planted being whipped away in the wind was interesting. My swing that my dad tied with a rope and tired on one of the bigger trees had been snatched away by the rough winds. It was all interesting or whatever but that was my swing. That swing was the one I'd lay on and stare up at the tree's bright green leaves as sunlight would seep through little entrances. I'd come here to think about things normal seven year olds wouldn't think. I loved the rain but that swing was the place I'd go to whenever I needed to relax and the storm ripped it away from us.

"Daddy?" My high-pitched voice caught the attention of my young-looking father dressed in a white tank top and faded blue jeans.

"Yes sweetheart?" He had acknowledged me, taking a step close to me. I looked away from him and scanned the damaged front yard once more. My ears perking up hearing my mother curse and shout from inside the house. The rustling caused by the wind allowed me to focus my attention back on the hurricane. I've been coming here since I was four. Every single summer. Not one missed. This was the first time I'd seen a rainstorm down here and I didn't like it one bit. It was killing everything that made coming down here fun. Watching the flowers bloom, swinging on my tire swing, running around in the fresh green grass.

"Why is the sky so upset?" I pondered "Why is it being mean?"

A bright white crooked line of lighting flashed in the sky. Knowing what was going to come next I ran behind my daddy's tall legs. A loud grumble and boom followed. My dad snickered rubbing a circle into my back over my summer dress I had put on to go to our family picnic today.

"Why are you laughing at me?" I pouted.

"Oh, kiddo" My dad's long arms heisted me high above the ground, my feet dangling and dark blonde frizzy hair falling around my face. His lovely scent of old spice entering my nostrils. I stared down at his blue eyes that I noticed one day in the mirror were a lot like mine.

They reminded me of the day time sky when it wasn't so angry like it was at this moment.

"I'm not laughing at you" His pearly whites showed when he smiled in admiration. "And the sky is not mad at you"

"Then why is it killing mommy's pretty red flowers and why'd it take my swing?" I waited for my dad's answer. For a second I thought he'd given up trying to find an answer but he hadn't. My dad placed my on his side, my legs wrapping around his waist as his arms held me up. My hands entwined behind his head.

"The sky is like you, mommy and I" My dad said. I looked at him while he spoke softly in a calming tone "Sometimes it has to cry"

"The sky is crying?" I said

"Yes babe, the sky is crying" He affirmed it. My eyes wandered back out at the storm. The drops of rain were pounding on the floor and thunder was rumbling like how my tummy would when I was hungry.

"Well, why is it crying so hard?" My curiosity climaxed. Did the angels make it mad? Was the sun being mean to it? Was it us down here on the ground? Will it ever stop crying so hard? What if it never stops crying so hard and mommy gets even more upset?