By Debra Elliott (All Day~Speechless~Dinner)
Rain. All day, non-stop rain. Living in Oregon I should be used to all the wet stuff, but I'm not. I actually hate the rain. It reminds of falling tears. Tears from heaven is what my mother used to say. She's dead and every time it rains I think of my mother.
Every time the rain falls in the Pacific Northwest I stop what I'm doing and look at the ebony sky. I guess I expect to see my mother in the middle of all the rain, but I know I won't ever see her. She's gone and all I have is a lot of stupid rain and another birthday without her
My brother invited me to dinner at a fancy restaurant to celebrate my birthday. I can't go. It's raining, not only outside but in my heart. I hate rain. I hate the thought of my mother not being in my life any longer. It's not fair she was the one to die and I survived the car accident five years ago. So long ago it seems, just like the rain that's falling outside my window.
I hear screeching tires on the wet pavement. It's not fair. The rain took my mother away and tonight will take another life. “Why?” I scream. I hate rain.
The rain begins to fall in thick sheets. I can't see anything outside my window but blurs. I hate the damn rain! Another life gone too soon. More tears fall from heaven. I'm speechless.
Rain. All day, non-stop rain. Living in Oregon I should be used to all the wet stuff, but I'm not. I actually hate the rain. It reminds of falling tears. Tears from heaven is what my mother used to say. She's dead and every time it rains I think of my mother.
Every time the rain falls in the Pacific Northwest I stop what I'm doing and look at the ebony sky. I guess I expect to see my mother in the middle of all the rain, but I know I won't ever see her. She's gone and all I have is a lot of stupid rain and another birthday without her
My brother invited me to dinner at a fancy restaurant to celebrate my birthday. I can't go. It's raining, not only outside but in my heart. I hate rain. I hate the thought of my mother not being in my life any longer. It's not fair she was the one to die and I survived the car accident five years ago. So long ago it seems, just like the rain that's falling outside my window.
I hear screeching tires on the wet pavement. It's not fair. The rain took my mother away and tonight will take another life. “Why?” I scream. I hate rain.
The rain begins to fall in thick sheets. I can't see anything outside my window but blurs. I hate the damn rain! Another life gone too soon. More tears fall from heaven. I'm speechless.