Opportunity

Catch the rain when it rains; not before, not after

Wilber looked across the lawn. The clouds were coming in now, just as they had before. Sorrow heavy through his eyes and regret sat like fog on his mind as he remembered. He had not notice his cane had fallen to the floor. Finch slowly climbed solemnly onto the porch and fell to the feet of his longtime owner. The stiffness in his legs hindered the dog so that the climb caused whimpers. Wilber stared at the dog. Gray had long ago taken over the snout of the mutt and arthritis had kicked in years ago.

Wilber looked across the lawn. The lawn where Finch had run and chased the frightened rabbits. Poor b*****d, he thought; saying it to himself more. Wilber made the same noise as his dog as he bent forward and grabbed the cane off the floor. Holding it in one hand, he took a long drink from his rocks glass. His wife had always told him the whiskey would kill him one day. How true it was. If only he could hear her say it once more. His face fell at the thought. He couldn’t remember what it was he had last said to his wife.

The rain was coming down hard. He had come home from the bar to an empty house for the first time. After searching through all the rooms in the small farmhouse he assumed she had gone to town. But, he had used the truck that day and her town clothes were still in the closet. He crashed drunkenly on the couch after the lazy search and gave her no second thought until the morning.

The rain was coming down hard. The next morning, he went outside, lighting his cigarette, and saw, through the sporadic flashes, the blood soaked porch. His entire body was numb with fear; but, he did feel the hard wood under his knees as he fell and pulled her in to his chest. He couldn’t tell how long he sat there holding her; it could have been forever if the neighbor hadn’t decided to smoke a cigarette. The doctor said she fell and hit her head. If it hadn’t rained that day she may have just laid there until she came to; but, Jesus had other plans fifteen years ago.

Wilber could see clouds in the distance. The grey they held darkened the light blue sky he so yearned for to stay. She always talked about traveling, reading all those articles in all those magazines, he thought. He poured himself another swill, swallowing it in one drink. He heard her call, as he usually does now, telling him to grab the baby.

Wilber could see clouds in the distance. He pointed his forefinger towards the far expanse of the sky and showed his boy the airplane. The boy squealed at the sight. Wilber knew that one day he would be a pilot; and maybe one of those pilots that took people to faraway lands for fun or brought supplies to the church missions. He wished he could have asked God for something else now.

This day stood out black. His son, his only boy, was joining the new army air corps. There was nothing his mother and father could do, he had said, it was an honor to serve. Wilber could feel the joy and dedication he saw on his boy’s face when he was chosen to fly one of the new bombers. Wilber knew we were going to war, he just didn’t know it would hit so close.

This day stood out black. His son, his baby, had left a long time ago. The dark car pulled up to the driveway, and two men walked up the short driveway. Wilber had been at the mill when they arrived; the horror was all for his wife to endure. He was told later that he and his wife would receive Jack’s medals and personal items soon. The man was told to express the president’s deepest regret and upmost recognition for the young man’s service and sacrifice. Wilber knew that statement was bull.

He grabbed his cane tight. Struggling to stand, he stared at the open field in front of his house, wondering where it went. Maybe it could take me far from here, he thought, maybe away from this house. He looked at the bottle of whiskey and whistled. Finch quietly watched his owner, waiting for movement.

He grabbed his cane tight. Shakily taking the first step. And the next. And by the time Finch reacted, Wilber was down the driveway. Looking over the field with weathered eyes he wondered about the last sixty two years. How he had been shackled by the pain of life. How he had let the field across the street stand in for his wife’s travels and his boy’s service. Now he would travel that field himself.

He walked slowly crossed the street with Finch in tow. He hadn’t grabbed anything from his home. He couldn’t bear the reminders of his old life. Feeling the crunch of the winter grass under his boot, he looked to the sky and could see the clouds beginning to form. He wouldn’t make it a day out in the unknown; but, he had his chance. He couldn’t do one more day with all he had come to know in that old house.

“Come on, boy. We’ll outrun that cloud. We’ll outrun the rain.”