When Summer Weeps🌧️

Ziv was eight. He enjoyed the rain. When the Summer sun burned his skin to blazes and the sky was a richer blue.he would quietly slip away from Momma and play in the puddles, soaked through by the rain.

She would struggle, dry his hair with tender care and serve hot chocolate. He was as sure as he could be of ever being happy then.

But the next summer she became ill. And five summers later she bid them farewell and was laid to rest.

Summers are no longer summers anymore. Ziv was thirteen now, he was scared of summers for five years. His Daddy tried his best being a man and making his son a man too.

But anyway. Ziv no longer walked in rain or jumped over puddles. It had been cruel to him and he blamed it for getting his mother sick. She had played with him in the rain one day, then got sick. Ziv thought it was because of him. But the rain wasn't what made her sick, it wasn't anyone's fault.it just was. The way things sometimes happen in this world.

His counselor informed him that the rain would heal him. He must seek his salvation in the healing waters of heaven. Maybe there, he could discover his mother in the gap between the drops, splash in puddles and dance with her once more.

Salvation. He checked to see what the word was. A source or channel of being rescued from harm, destruction or loss. Well, he certainly did need to be rescued for certain, Ziv was tired of being down so long.

Thirteen year old Ziv decided to follow his therapist's recommendation. This summer would not be the summer he had planned. About but it would have to do.

He walked out into the rain. Seeing himself at eight years old again. He bent down, pressed his finger against the puddle. And a strange feeling flowed through him. As if a shock of electricity jolted the past to life. Where he was unselfconscious, brimming with life and laughing again.

It was as if the body molecules (he is a huge biology enthusiast) reacted to the water and the water to them. It restored him to the condition he was in that other joyful place again.

He glanced upland there was his mother, bouncing across the puddle, flower umbrella held aloft. He was glad she had the umbrella. Her head would be protected this time. It would perhaps keep her from becoming sick all over again.

"Come my son. jump with me". His mother chuckled gleefully, calling his father walking by, his heart looking downcast.

Father, stunned, did not trust his eyes. He rubbed them.squinted.and wept.

Then he ran to catch up to his son in what he hoped was a dream.

Oh, how vivid was the summer night. His mother had returned, for one moment to tell them she was okay. And they should accept it and be okay too.

Sommers no longer mourned. That day reshaped their lives and ushered in happy continuations again. Summer rain now carries that sweet mix of heat and sorrow, like the sky learned to weep softly finally.

Pretty, sentimental recollections full of make-believe.

Rain now completes the space between their recollections.

The past shines warm with tears and umbrellas flower like flowering late blooms with the caress of the tempest.

A rain-drenched city is a fantasy world of living haven and fairy tales.

"We never knew happiness till the summer rain spoke". Ziv had penned in school.

"Reflective. Rain isn't just the sound, but the absence of everything else". His teacher had written in awe.

Ziv now runs bare feet along wet pavements, flowing with specters of all of his mother's remembered moments.

☔☔☔

Summer now bursts like jasmine umbrellas on rain nights.