"O" is for . . . Once upon a summer
We finish up the morning and afternoon activities, a bit of school, time at the pool, picking up sea shells while walking on the beach. I hurry into the house and get dinner started. I brush sand off my feet the best I can, and don't worry too much about the rest. The floor needs cleaning anyways. I know I'll get to it one day here soon.
The thunder rolls across southwest Florida as the summer storms it's way into our life.
The air is thick with salty humidity. The smell brings back memories of childhood visits to the island that remained in my heart from the moment I'd set foot on it. I knew then, I was home.
I close my eyes and breathe deeply, the salty air of my youth as I say a quick prayer for the one I love to remain safe.
Across the water, he watches carefully as the next afternoon storm rolls in. The Captain's eye is sharp and he is accustomed to the weather. He takes in the sky black as night, with intermittent rays of light and bright streaks reflecting off the water and bouncing off the dark clouds. He presses on.
He's tired. He works, this man, in the hot sun all day. He's fulfilling his lifelong dream - a fisherman; He's fulfilling mine as well.
Once upon a summer dream, a little girl said a prayer. I smile, remembering.
I call the children to come in, all 3 boys dirty from head to toe with tad poles in hand, lizards in tow and an egg sack or two they have found. They are in search of a container to use as a home for their new friends.
The sweat rolls down their faces, big blue eyes shine with excitement from the afternoons adventures. Their spirit is not dampened as the rain falls yet again.
They know it will bring more tad poles.
As the storm looms, ominously in the sky, the house shakes with the deep rumble of thunder. Bad as it may look, I know this too shall pass, and there is light shining there, beyond the storm.
The steady rain begins to fall. I stop to take notice how it moves across the water, and travels across the flat landscape; sometimes raining on one side of the street, and not the other.
The water pools, as it begins to pour and the ground is saturated once again. All the brown from winter is gone now, and has been replaced with the deep, rich green of summer.
The heavy rains wash away the heat of the day, not completely, but enough.
It is fresh. I smile, thinking about how the washing away - really does make everything new.
As the pounding rain slows to a pitter-patter and the afternoon storm rolls on by. The southwest Florida sky shows promise of another colorful sunset.
There may be time yet, to run down to the beach and catch sight of it as the sun sinks below the horizon. With dark clouds moved on, we may even get to see the illusive green flash.
Maybe we will, but we won't rush.
One way or the other we'll peek outside to see what the summer sky has to offer. We'll soak up another evening sunset painted by the hand of God himself, especially for us.
Our boys run by, stopping only for a second, to notice the sun dipping down below the water's edge.
This is the rhythm of summer in southwest Florida.
Confession: I wrote for more than 5 min. I stopped timing because the words poured out - from my heart.
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