After the rains

There is always an eerie calm after the rains when the world slowly reawakens. Scents which are other wise trapped and masked in the dry earth, now permeate the air. That pleasant smell of petrichor emanating from summer dried grass, damp soil redolent from years of toil, sweet aroma of flowers in bloom. Along with a unique taste of ozone delicately dancing upon my tongue. It is what I imagine electricity to taste like.

Nature comes alive with gentle warbles and chirps echoing throughout the woods. Clouds of insects buzzing about as if it is their last day on earth, and for many it may very well be. Yet they flit about, living in the moment, unaware of life’s little twists.

I try to imagine what the world must appear like for the millions of creatures living beneath the earth after a storm. I’m saying millions because the number of ants alone. I should have paid more attention in biology, or science or what ever class taught us about bugs.

Closing my eyes I listen to a constant staccato of drips and plops as water rolls off leaves, crashing to the ground below. Microscopic explosions bursting upon impact, resonating with the tiny creatures calling the soil their home.

After reviewing the destruction do they say, ‘Well fuck, there goes my house.’ Do they panic or continue their routine as if nothing occurred and start rebuilding?

I cannot say why or how I find myself in front of my former school. It’s stone and brick walls standing like a sentinel for over eighty years. My parents and both set of grandparents attended here. Empty now, hard to believe it was teeming with life not long ago.

Such is life in a small rural town on the prairies.

Our final days of school faded away in a blur, as it did every year, making way for the crazy, lazy days of summer. The only difference is this was my last year of high school. This summer was to be a last hurrah of youth before becoming a fulltime adult.

The world grew the moment my naive adolescent feet left the worn tile and stepped onto the cold concrete of reality. I was heading into the unknown. University, work, marriage, mortgage, family, taxes, and death, this was what I had to look forward too. I once considered this place a prison, but realize it was a second home.

The only constant for me was Sarah Connelly, the love of my life since sixteen. The year her family moved to our town was the happiest day of my life. We had it all planned until we didn’t. The fault was not hers. She is not to blame for our demise.

I guarantee dying wasn’t in her plans, but it happened all the same and now things have changed. Death has a way of doing that. Taking away everything that is and what may have been.

Normally I would have counted on my best friend Topper to console me and support me. However, he died along with Sarah and most of our classmates. I’m alive because I stayed behind as planned, to prepare the surprise. Is that irony or just luck? If it’s luck is it good or bad?

Topper took Sarah in my place. People thought I was crazy to let him take her…a good-looking young man, a cute girl. Inside I chuckled, Sarah wasn’t Toppers preference.

The day he shared his secret with the two of us, my face gave away immature thoughts, wondering if he was in love with me. Until he gripped my face in his strong hands, kissed my forehead and said. ‘Don’t flatter yourself you’re not my type either.’

I can still see his stupid grin.

Instinctively I reach inside my pocket, and feel the cool touch of metal, glad I brought it with me.

Turning away from the deserted building my feet move on their own, I am a mere puppet controlled by invisible strings of solitude. It isn’t long before I find myself wandering the near empty streets of what was once a booming downtown. Now, half the buildings are boarded up.

People wander like zombies, staring at me with blank expressions. The shock of what happened is unimaginable, a tragedy that no one can comprehend as reality sinks in. I see in their eyes what they are thinking. Many are parents who wonder how I survived while their child has not. What gives me the right to be walking around, breathing, seeing, while their sons and daughters eyes are forever closed. I know they don’t blame me, they just wonder, as do I.

Elderly men gather outside, hovering around a radio, its chrome antenna reaching skyward. A tinny voice echoes down the street blaring out the news. Old man Tuppet waves me over, I nod but keep walking.

I am too numb for conversation. For the past forty-eight hours all that we did was talk, pray, scream. Now, we stare at nothing and cry at everything. Empty words are no longer wanted. Instead, we search for answers that are unlikely to be given. A few people reflexively raise their hands in greeting, then shrug once they realize the stupidity of their action. I caught myself doing it as well, instinctively smiling at mister Andrews, who lost his wife and daughter. The look he gives me in return will haunt me until the day I die.

There are four places that people are congregating. The bar, church, city hall and the diner. I am too young for the bar, wish to avoid city hall where they are discussing items that won’t matter, and currently the church and I are not in agreement. Therefore, I head to Connelly’s diner, owned by Sarah’s parents.

The bell above the entrance rings out a false joyful note of welcome. Puffy red eyes glance in my direction as I stumble in. I tell myself it is the cool air-conditioned atmosphere that causes my skin to shiver. The packed place becomes silent once people recognize who just entered. Suddenly, I feel lost in a place where I spent many days, as a patron and as an employee. Fondly remembering those crazy days Sarah and I would serve the customers while her dad cooked, and her mother worked the counter and till. No matter how busy it was we always found a reason to laugh. Thinking back, I realize I could have spent my life here, why was I so intent on leaving, believing life was better out there. That was the best it ever was.

My legs go weak as Mrs. Connelly walks towards me. Unsure what her reaction will be my hand finds it’s way into my pocket. I relax once my fingers touch the smooth hard surface nestled within, giving me courage.

When she embraces me and tucks her head into the crook of my neck I feel relief. Warm tears flow down my skin and trickle under my collar, I am shocked to find out the dampness upon my cheeks are from me. I do not know how long we stood there in each others’ arms, I just know this is where I need to be. Taking my hand, she leads me to the counter and gently moves Garth Dunkins off the stool, offering me his seat. His large farm hands squeeze my shoulders with a tenderness I had not expected.

Mrs. Connelly wipes her eyes and nose with a tissue procured from thin air and makes it disappear just as magically. A cup of coffee is placed in front of me along with a slice of apple pie, topped with cheddar cheese.

“You should eat something.” Is all she says.

I haven’t eaten since it happened and realize how hungry I am. Soon murmurs of conversations again fill the place. I want to ask her how she can be working, while I am barely aware. Then I spot Sarah’s dad in the kitchen, head down flipping burgers and plating food like it is an ordinary day. I become angry, then realize this is how they are coping.

I remember the day Sarah brought me to the diner to meet her folks. Her mom liked me immediately, her dad not so much.

After our initial stare down, he stated. 'You know I’m ex-military.'

I nodded.

He continued. 'Sarah’s mother and I have moved a lot in the past.'

I didn’t know if he was telling me that travel was in Sarah’s nature, or she wanted a place to finally settle down.

Like an idiot I said. 'Well, Sarah manages to find you every time.'

He stared at me while my throat slowly tightened, and mouth got dry. Then with what felt like a hammer he slapped my back, walked into the kitchen mumbling, ‘find us every time…’

Just like that, they accepted me.

It didn’t take long for me to notice almost everyone in here lost someone. Human contact is a way of letting us know we are not alone, even though we are.

Soon, I’m talking and hugging people I barely glanced at previously, there is comfort, yet also a sadness. Knowing the one person I truly wish to be holding is gone. I still expect to see her. This place where we used to laugh now feels small and confined. Memories overwhelm my soul to the point where breathing becomes a challenge. Tossing a few bills on the counter I walk out without saying goodbye.

The outside air crush’s me with an invisible wall of heat. My hands begin shaking like my grandfathers had as he got older, while my breathing becomes shallow and tight. No matter how much air I suck in it’s never enough. The world tilts and spins out of control. Nothing is normal, nor will it ever be again. Why am I here eating apple pie and drinking coffee while my friends are gone? Why am I able to breathe and talk while their voices will remain silent forever? Why am I walking upon this earth when they will soon be beneath it?

WHY?

It isn’t until I trip and find myself falling in slow motion that I realize I was running. Where too? I have no idea.

Laying on the ground, I watch clouds drift by like they have for eons. This could have been just another day. Are our lives so insignificant?

I stand, brushing myself off, then pause, staring at the blood smeared on my jeans from cuts and scrapes tattooing my flesh. Suddenly, it dawns on me, my body knows where I need to be. The last place where the three of us were together.

With a renewed clarity I walk with purpose until I arrive at my destination.

The gritty metal rungs of the towns water tower are familiar. Inhaling the rusty smell of worn iron feels nostalgic. Climbing upon the platform that circles the blue painted tank proudly sporting our towns name.

I survey the land. Golden fields of wheat spread before me like a vast ocean. The town where I grew up lays like a tiny Lego village. I now see the world for what it is, not what it was. It may be a small part of the world, but it's not insignificant like I once thought.

It’s home.

From here we discussed our plans. Topper a star football player in college with a distant dream of going pro. Sarah and I attending the same University, marrying, and raising a family. Then reality kicks me in the ass, thinking about not only ours, but all the children that will never be born.

I am distracted by an odor wafting on the breeze.

The summer shower did it’s best to cleanse the earth. However, the pungent smell of smoke and burning fuel still lingers. Behind me the landscape is vastly different, it will take years to recover.

My eyes become distracted by a blur crossing above. Looking up my pulse races and my mouth goes dry. Missile flames scar the sky as plumes of white streak across a canvas of blue. I watch in fascination and horror as they descend, preparing to rain hell upon us once more.

Suddenly, the cold metal is in my hand.

I stare at the tiny diamond embedded within a golden ring. My surprise for Sarah.

Exhausted, I lean against the rail and close my eyes, imagining the three of us together gazing upon the prairies. Topper, gently nudging me in a playful way, Sarah’s head upon my shoulder. In my dream I reach for her hand, realizing I may get the chance to ask her after all.

Yet, we are little more than bugs after the rains.