It is pouring rain outside. Though outwardly, I curse the skies on days like this, I secretly like this sort of weather – if I can remain indoors for most of it. I prefer it to be a day when I don’t even have to go outside (except to walk the dog, poor girl), but a day like today is almost just as well. Go to work, go home. Except today is a gym day, so I’m sure to be annoyed when it’s time to walk the half mile to the gym, avoiding puddles and trying not to be attacked by other people’s umbrellas. But… close to perfect. Close.
The rain pouring down with the window opened just a crack while I lie in bed: that is the setting for a perfect night of sleep for me. Not a crazy hurricane storm; just pouring straight down, those late summer nights that are humid and then the skies open up, the rain comes down hard, but straight down, you can keep your windows wide open if you choose, and all you can hear is the sound of the rain falling. It soothes and makes my sleep come quickly, deeply, soundly. I love those nights.
As I’m picturing it now, I feel myself slip into the bed; pull back the covers and lie down. I always have my down comforter on the bed, even in the summer, because I am one of those people who feels like it cools me down and keeps me warm, depending on my need. The night is hazy, I turn off the lights and stand between the wall and the bed, listening to the rain fall, listen to the small sounds of the night; my dog shifting in her sleep, getting more comfortable before I climb into bed with her and adjust her position so that she lies curled up against my chest. The rain. The rain like a faucet turned on, forgotten, but soothing.
I pull back the covers and lie down, this time with the lights off. I slip into a deep slumber, one where you wouldn’t think you’d dreamt, but you have. You just don’t remember it because the sleep was that good.
I dream I’m walking towards you, and you’re smiling. You hold your hand out, and I take it even though I’m a grown woman of 28, and we turn and walk through the field of flowers. Magical flowers, because your allergies aren’t acting up. You’re breathing fine and we smile and laugh and chat about everything life has thrown at us. I update you on my life, because even though you’ve been watching, you can’t possibly know how I’d word things if you were here and I could tell you what was going on and where life had really taken me, places that neither of us ever even considered in the realm of my choices and opportunities when I was younger and you were still here.
I tell you how happy I am, and how even though things haven’t turned out quite the way I thought or you wanted, it is a good thing because it has all led me to be who I am today. And that person is a happy person, with sure, her down moments, but an incredibly upbeat outlook in life, and … well, you can’t know how sweet a rainbow is until you’ve tasted rain first, yes?
All too soon, you’re telling me it’s time for you to go, and that we must do this again sooner than it’s been since the last time we talked at length, and I try to say, “We’ve never talked like this before,” but you just smile and hug me and something is wrong because this isn’t how it was, this is never how our relationship was, and you just shake your head and laugh that I could never accept things at face value, could I? and you turn and walk down a bit until I can’t see you anymore and then…
I wake gently, easily, and it’s morning. The rain has stopped, and the sun is shining, and I’m smiling but I don’t know why. I feel refreshed, light, and I think how I slept so deeply, I don’t think I’ve dreamt.
I don’t think I’ve dreamt… but later that day, while doing something completely unrelated, your memory, faded, blurry around the edges, and completely out of focus, pops into my head, and a dull ache forms.
I miss you, Daddy. It has never gotten easier, and I’m not sure it ever will.