Rainy Day Blues

My most favorite days, even with small children demanding attention! and snacks! and games! and kisses!, actually the kisses are okay, my most favorite days are the cool, cloudy, rainy ones. Not the flat gray ones but the kind where the clouds curl up on each other; thick quilts of fluff in various shades of pewter, silver, and slate. This day, this break from the grind and excuse to cozy up at home, is rare. It is no ordinary wet rain, it is a day when fairy tale diamonds drop from the sky, silver rivulets wind down the glass, castles build in my imagination and the world is transformed.

The rain comes down in a steady plunk against the windowpanes, a background percussion that insulates and provides a steady rhythm for life happening inside. Somehow, the green walls become a hideaway with secret happenings shielded from the outside world. Bread baked is homier, stories read are more engrossing, and songs sung are sweeter and tunier (I know that’s not a word).

I slip into my running clothes and run through the drops, now the pitter patter of rain on the plastic stroller shield accompanies my dash. The water rinses away the sweat so that I feel as clean on the outside as the inside when I get back, eager for a warm shower to seal in the freshness.

Soup bubbles, tea kettle whistles, the fire winks cheerfully (it’s gas so I pretend that it’s crackling). We have laughter and creativity and chocolate chip cookies. There is no fear of rainy day blues; this is a day I cherish. It's a day I wish I could store away in a shiny little bag, waiting to be pulled out and sprinkled like fairy dust over the harsh, unrelenting sun to give a little relief and refreshment.

I get an email every day with a prompt to use for writing. I'm challenging myself to use at least one prompt a week and write something, anything... I'll be posting some of them here on the blog. I have no idea where they'll take me. You've been warned. (The prompt word will be italicized in the text.)