I Can Hear the Rain

I am lying on the bed.  Drowsy with sleep.  My eyes opening and closing.  

Pitter-patter.  

It's raining outside.  The first rain of the season, early, but welcomed.  The trickling of the water, cleansing, nourishing.  I needed it.  To feel it.  To hear it.  Rolling down the roof, into the overflowing gutters, drip, drip, hitting the plastic toy bucket below.  I like the melody it plays.  It reminds me of our drumming classes.  

Pitter-patter...

~~~~~~~~~~~

Adventures in Rhythm

Pitter-Patter, Pitter-Patter, I can hear the rain.  

Pitter-Patter, Pitter-Patter, I can hear the rain.  

His little fingers tip toe along the surface of the drum.  Feeling the stretched leather, and whispering, he continues to mouth the words. 

   

Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, I can hear the wind.  

Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, I can hear the wind.

Caressing the surface with the tips of his fingers in a dizzying whirlwind motion, round and round, round and round.  It really sounds like the wind, the beginnings of a rumbling of something bigger.  I see the excitement in his eyes as the song progresses, sure that he is filled with the anticipation of what's to come, waiting and ready.

Boom.  Boom.  Boom.  Boom. I can hear the storm.  

Boom.  Boom.  Boom.  Boom.  I can hear the storm.  

His arms are flailing now as he bangs the drum in full force.  There is no inhibition, no hesitation, not even any rhythm, but I love it anyway, hearing and seeing the storm come to its fruition, the anticipation of its final arrival only seconds before, the excitement, the banging, the freedoms.  

~~~~~~~~~~~

He rolls over.  I wonder if he'll wake, or if we can both get a few more moments to this wonderful, lazy, rain-filled afternoon.  I drift into and out of sleep again.  My eyes heavy and closing with each fall of another rain drop.  

Miss Percy will be muddy now, I think.    

I didn't plant my seedlings in the garden yet, I think.  

I refuse to go there.  I am not going to allow my mind to race, to think of all the things still left undone, of all the things I need to finish.  I am enjoying lying here, listening to this pitter-patter rain, breathing in this moment.  

Sleepy afternoon.  Where is the storm?

(Drumming moment and photo, courtesy of Mz. Marianne's drumming classes at Adventures in Rhythm.  Thank you, Mz. Marianne!) 


Inspired by Just Write.