When You Catch A Butterfly
Published By James Tagge and Sarah Hammond
Copyright 2010 James Tagge and Sarah Hammond at Smashwords
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It rained again today. I lay in bed and watched through the window as the thick gray clouds moved in over the meadow early this morning. It took some effort, but after a while I got up, made some coffee, took my usual spot alone on the front porch and waited with a great yet fearful anticipation. Few would understand why. Only my wife could really, for she knows my story and leaves me to myself for a while at such times.
It only threatened at first, the lightening dancing across the sky, announcing the coming of each new round of thunder, which rolled overhead ominously as if it might be heard around the world. The chill in the air nipped at my neck like some determined insect, more conspicuous than it might have otherwise been in its inability to penetrate the comforting barrier of my coat.
It felt tranquil in a sad sort of way when the rain started to come down, but then it always seemed to, so hypnotic in its constancy as it fell on the street, collecting against the granite curb, flowing down to some far off drain out of view. A kind of metaphor for my life I thought as I watched the stream growing ever stronger, find alternate paths around small dams of sticks and leaves which had fallen from the trees in the wind some time before. How everything had changed from what I once thought it would be in this, the middle of my life. How was it that I had arrived here where I am? I moved deeper into thoughts of my past as the rain fell harder, as if in a trance, aware of my state but unwilling to separate from the odd, sullen comfort of it. How telling of our feelings and desires, these private times. Drawn to look deep into the sadness of our losses, missed opportunities, failures and longings, we see the future’s possibilities most clearly. We see what is left of us, what we have left to give. They are I think, these moments, the source of hope. Hope it seems for some, comes in the rain.