Rain on the Dock

Rain on the Dock

He sat at the edge of the dock and watched the tiny ripples in the lake collide into each other as rain fell all around. He wondered how long he had been out there. Time didn't feel normal for him tonight. He knew it was long enough for the rain to soak through his sweater, t shirt, pants, boxers, shoes, and socks – long enough to make it irrelevant that he was sitting above the lake and not in it. Long enough to know that the sun had set a while ago, but not long enough to know if it would be rising soon. But he didn't care about things like the time or the day. He liked watching the rain fall into the lake. It reminded him that everything returns to where it came from in some form or another. The sun will come up in the same general spot that it always does and it will set in the same way. The trees will shed their leaves every fall, remain barren through the winter, blossom in the spring, and enjoy a vibrant green summer, just as they do every year. Everything living will return to death, and from death will sprout new life. There was no permanence in a world like this, only borrowed time in which you get to pass through the world. Like a storm that passes through your town.

The last of the cars were clearing from the restaurant across the street. Last call there is somewhere between midnight and two, depending on how the bartender is feeling that night and which of his regulars are there. The lights inside the building dimmed and turned off, now the only light he could see came from the moon, stars, and a couple of houses across the lake. The only sound was the pattering of rain on the dock behind him and the liquid plops in the lake in front of him.

"Matt," a voice came from behind him. He turned to find the bartender from the restaurant, tall and muscular with short hair, a long beard, and a black t-shirt. The bartender walked to the edge of the dock and stood for a while, looking at one of the best patrons of his bar, Matt, sitting down in a big puddle. "You alright, friend?"

"Yeah," Matt said. They listened to the rain for a while. The bartender sat down next to him. "You're going to get all wet out here."

"That's alright. I like the rain," the bartender said.

"Me too."

"It makes me appreciate the sunny days a bit more." Matt nodded in agreeance. "Marc and Rene were asking about you. So were Larissa and Al. We missed you in there today."

"I didn't quite feel like going out."

"I understand."

They sat in silence. Neither was sure how much time had passed, but eventually the rain stopped. In the East, on the far end of the lake, the sky was turning purple, as the sun was soon to rise.

Matt looked at the bartender and, for the first time in days, smiled. "Suns coming up. For degenerates like us, that means it's time for bed."

"Yes, it does." They stood and walked back up the dock. When it came time for them to go their separate ways, they hugged. "Stop by tomorrow after the funeral, will you? Drinks for friends and family are on me. We'll drink Yuengling and Jameson, just like he used to."

"That sounds beautiful."

"It will be. I'll see you tomorrow. Good night."

"Good night, barkeep."