My Father and I used to love the rain. I remember he used to take me out when it was raining and we would walk, letting the rain wash all over us, as we took in its essence, its being. We looked forward to rainy days. Rainy days were days of just he and I. People taking cover wherever they could so they would not get wet. People avoided the outside when a downpour came. He would just laugh and say, "Let's go and soak up our environment." And we would. We didn't care. We were free when we walked together in the rain. I knew that. My Father knew that too. I think often of those times now because I cry. I cry because he, nor I, can go out and enjoy the environment when a downpour occurs. The rain burns so bad, acid rain.
My Father died from inhaling the ash that rained down upon us some five years ago. I'll be glad when I can, "soak up our environment," again. But for now, I can just watch the rain. Pray for him and pray for things to get better. I miss you Daddy.
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