Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Enjoying the Rain

As the old man walked down Second Street he noticed dark clouds in the distance and suspected a storm was coming. The air was humid, and a slight breeze swept past him as he spotted the park. He sauntered over on his creaky bones and halted before a decrepit wooden bench. It was in the shade of a giant tree, and had moss creeping up its legs. The words “Dedicated in loving memory to Catelyn Vinder,” were engraved in the back rest, already starting to fade from the years of constant abrasion that the bench had endured as people sat, read, ate, talked… All of them unknowingly erasing the memory of this woman with every shift in their seat.
With a sigh, the man sat down heavily, and the bench reciprocated with a grunt of its own as his body weighed down on its feeble frame. All around he could hear the sounds of everyday people’s lives, all of them reminding him of his long past youth. The chatter of two women ambling through the park, the quick pacing footsteps of a jogger taking advantage of the temporary sunshine, the laughter of a child as a dog licked his face, the serenading of a man to his paramour. All of this he heard, and all of this he ignored, immune to the happiness felt in life. He was detached from these people; now he related more to the old bench. After all, he knew what it was like to be overlooked and alone. His life was very languorous these days.
“What should I do today?” he asked himself, “I have no doctor’s appointments, no friends to see, no family members in town…” The last thought made a sudden reverie come upon him. Back when he was a young man, in the prime of his life, he used to love the close proximity that he had shared with all of his family members. Aunt Gale had been on Third, Cousin Tony on Fifth…they were encompassing. But now… well, the world was not what it used to be. Over time his family had relocated itself all around the world, to Japan, England, Texas… All for different reasons, but leaving behind them the same feeling of desolation. The gloomy city was now unfamiliar to him, a spectral wasteland full of old memories. He was doubting life, wondering what the point of it was when there was no one to share it with. After his wife died three years before, he had never been the same man. He became contentious, pessimistic… and so on. He lacked the ability to show love after feeling it ripped from his breast as easily as a petal is torn from a flower. He couldn’t bear to talk about her, to think about her. And yet she was all he could think about. Though he tried and tried, his attempts to forget were futile, and resulted in the departure of his last family member in the city. After years of his irate behavior, his son had given up on him and decided to explore the world. And so the old man was all alone all the time, and he dreaded each new day, wondering when God would be merciful and end his suffering.
These were his thoughts when all of a sudden a young voice muttered, “Hew-wo”. The man looked up. Standing directly in front of him was a young child, scarcely taller than the man’s knees. He was wearing blue jean overalls that displayed a picture of Winnie the Pooh in the center of his chest. His shirt was long sleeved, with brown and white horizontal stripes, and his pants were rolled a few times at the bottom, indicating to the old man that this boy was either extremely young or uncommonly small. Looking back at the boy’s face, he noticed flame red hair, spring green eyes, and an array of light brown freckles from one cheek to the other, engulfing the bridge of his nose.
“What do you want?” the old man asked tersely.
“I cawn’t find me parnts, hewp me?” the boy asked pitifully.
The old man looked around, scanning the park for signs of a panicked couple looking for their lost child. He saw a man ride past on a bike, heard an ice cream truck drive by in the distance, and noticed that the ominous clouds were getting closer, but he didn’t see anyone who fit the description of a despairing parent. Scratching the top of his head he asked, “Why aren’t you with your parents?”
“They wouldn’t bwing me the doy I wan-ed, so I wan away to find the big mountain with the happy elves I eard about on a comecial,” he mumbled so quickly that the man could not understand him.
The little boy was picturing this toy, a superman action figure that had a light up “S” and talked. He saw it on a commercial one time and ever since he had been nagging his parents to get it for him. But they told him that he couldn’t have it because it was too expensive, which meant little to him since he was only four.
“Slow down boy, so you don’t have any idea where you’re parents are now?”
“Ummm… maybe at the… the… ho-home? Or the plond, with the alligators…?” the boy trailed off, deep in thought, “OH! Or maybe they’re at the orange peel. We went there once,” he said, very matter-of-factly, picturing the big field full of ripe oranges. They had gone there on a tour because he had wanted to learn how orange juice was made.
“What was the boy talking about?” thought the man, “A plond? Alligators? An orange peel? And what on earth was a ho-home?”
“Whoa whoa whoa, hold your horses kid,” said the old man, “I need to think”.
The boy looked around with a confused expression on his face, “I don’t see any horwses”.
“What do I do?” thought the old man, “I can’t just leave him here, but how can I help? I’m just a feeble old guy…” He huffed and thought, “Well, I have to help him, it’s just a tacit rule, and what would my wife say if I just left him?” The thought was a stab to his heart. Up until that point, he had forgotten about the pain she left behind, had been distracted by this interaction with another human being, even if he was only a child. The world’s ceaseless gloom returned, and the old man got up and asked the kid, “What do they call you anyway?”
“Huh?” asked the kid.
“What’s your name?” the old man asked, rephrasing the question so that the he would understand.
“Bwandon. What did the fairies name you?” he asked sincerely.
“Ned,” said the old man, ignoring the fairy aspect of the question. He noticed that people were starting to leave the park now, and felt the air get a little colder. “Let’s just look for your parents around the park, I’m sure they can’t be far,” said Ned.
“Otay!” the boy shouted excitedly, and began to run around in a circle with a bounce in his step that could only be achieved by someone anticipating the excitement of a fresh adventure.
Ned began to walk down the pathway leading away from the comfort of the bench, Brandon trailing along beside him.
The little boy looked up at the sky as they walked and saw the storm clouds too, but unlike Ned they made the little boy happy. “Do you think it will wain?” he asked.
“Cats and dogs, I’m sure,” replied Ned in a gruff voice.
Brandon was about to ask what that meant when he spotted an airplane in the sky. “Look! A hairplane!” he exclaimed, and then began to run around with his arms outstretched making airplane sounds as he went.
Ned watched him and chuckled. It reminded him of when his son was that age, and how he used to ride on his shoulders as Ned was the airplane and his son the passenger. This thought brought another painful feeling to his chest. “Why have I been so mean?” Ned asked himself, “Why did I have to push my son away?” He pondered the question for a moment, feeling a small wind blow against him that caused his coat to flap around as internally he answered, “Because he reminds you of her…”
He was deep in thought, which was why he didn’t hear the little boy right away as he asked, “Mr.? Mr.?
Clearing his throat he replied, “What?”
“I think it’s stawting to wain.”
The old man was about to disagree, but then he felt the first drop hit him squarely on the top of his head. He looked around and realized that the park was vacant. “Looks like your right kid,” he began; the little boy smiled in response, “But that’s no good for us. It’s just going to make finding your parents even harder, like finding a needle in a haystack.”
The little boy thought about that and then said, “Mr., why would I look for my parnts in a haystack?”
Sighing, Ned simply said, “I don’t know boy, I don’t know.”
As they continued to walk around the sky grew increasingly darker, and Ned knew that if they didn’t find his parents soon they were going to have to go to the police station. It seemed to Ned like they had been walking for hours, and his old limbs were starting to show it. As he attempted to walk up a small hill, he grew so tired that he had to stop until Brandon said, “Look! It’s the bench where we started!”
Ned looked at where his outstretched finger was pointing and realized that the kid was right. “How is this possible?” he asked himself, “Why is this happening to me?”
He was wondering why the world was so cruel, why every day had to be torture to him, why his life was so meaningless now, why he couldn’t fix it. As he watched Brandon jump into a nearby puddle, he had an epiphany that came upon him as suddenly as the earlier rain. Seeing Brandon once again reminded him of a memory that he shared with his son. It had been before his wife’s death, back when he used to be happy. He and his son had been enjoying the rain, puddle jumping, skidding on the slick earth, and having a great time. He remembered there was a storm, eerily like the one that was approaching, and he had told his son, “See Robb, this is what life is about. You have to enjoy what nature gives you,” he had grabbed his son’s hand and extended it, palm up, so that he could catch the rain drops. “You have to see the good in the bad, the happy in the sad, to get the most out of a rainy day. But most of all you have to treasure the finite things in life, because they won’t last forever, and when they’re over you have to realize that everything has to end, and that’s okay.”
“I will daddy,” he had said, “Always.”
Ned found that there were tears in his eyes when he heard the shouts distantly in the background. He looked up and saw Brandon running towards two people by a pond a few hundred yards behind the bench. He noticed that they were a man and a woman, both shouting, rejoicing. “These must be Brandon’s parents,” Ned thought.
He hobbled over on his now excruciatingly painful joints, and saw that Brandon’s mother was still planting kisses all over his face. The boy’s father was getting up to come meet Ned, as Ned noticed the raindrops pelting the pond. The concentric circles were so beautiful, he thought, beginning to recall the beauty of nature.
When she saw her husband approaching, Brandon’s mother got up and started walking over too, clutching Brandon’s hand in an iron grip, as if afraid he would float away.
When they finally reached him, Ned was staring at Brandon, who was regarding him with a curious expression. The rain was lessoning as Brandon’s father extended his hand to Ned for a shake.
“Jon Snow,” he said.
“Ned Vinder,” he replied. Jon noticed that the old man had a strong grip.
“Thank you so much for finding our little boy!” exclaimed Mrs. Snow.
“No problem. We had quite a little adventure, wouldn’t you say so Brandon?”
“Yeppiseesuri!” he shouted jovially. “Mr. Mr.! Come see the plond with the alligators!”
He started running towards the pond. “Oh,” Ned realized, “the pond…But then what were the alligators he was talking about?”
Mrs. Snow began to laugh as Brandon almost fell into the pond after chasing a little lizard around a large limestone rock a couple of times. As Ned got closer, he saw what Brandon was following, and decided that this must be what he meant by alligator.
“You have a very interesting boy, Mrs. Snow,” he commented.
“You have no idea. You should see him when he’s really excited, he’s not even the least bit understandable!”
“Oh, I believe you. We’ve been through the mill today,” he chuckled.
“What miwl? We didn’t go through any miwls… I would wemember that,” said Brandon, who had silently joined them while they were talking.
“Oh no honey, he doesn’t mean a real mill… I’ll tell you about it when you’re older,” she consoled him.
“Otay,” he replied, grinning.
“Well, I better go, I’m pretty tuckered out,” said Ned.
“Okay, well thanks again, so much,” Mrs. Snow said smiling sweetly, right before she gave Ned a big hug. He froze. He had forgotten what it was like to be loved by someone, to receive a hug, to get a call on a lonely day…it was nice, he would have to call his son.
“Well goodbye,” he repeated.
“Bye,” said Jon, waving.
“Byeee!” shouted Brandon, running and slamming into Ned’s legs at full speed as he gave him a big bear squeeze; well, as much as a four-year-old can give a bear squeeze. “I wove you Mr.,” he said, gazing up at Ned’s face.
“I love you too,” Ned replied without even thinking.
After that he began to walk back home. The rain had stopped, and now the clouds were starting to move past. People were once again in the park and the atmosphere was the same as it had been before he had met Brandon, only he felt like his perspective on life had changed, as though it was no longer a curse, as though he could deal with it and actually enjoy it. Astonished at this sudden vindication from pain, he noticed a ray of sunlight hitting his wife’s bench, as though the universe was showing him that his wife was still with him. He dragged himself a little farther to rest on it. Though everything around him was much the same he could not feel more different. He understood now, understood why he could never be happy before. In order to appreciate the good things in life, one must also appreciate the bad. And that’s what had happened with his wife. He had loved her so much, but life didn’t last forever, and now he understood that you just had to enjoy it while it lasted, even if it wasn’t all happy, it was still life. Just like a stormy day, it may not be sunny and perfect but if you could learn how to enjoy the rain, life would be so much easier. And that’s what he was doing, enjoying the rain.


This is actually a story I wrote for English in 10th grade, but I'm still proud of myself for it, so I think that it's earned a spot on the blog :)

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