At first the summer heat was just mildly uncomfortable. Next it
became tiring, and then, oppressive. By July, it felt a lot like
working in the kitchen on Thanksgiving Day — like standing in front of
a hot oven for six straight hours. Yet the temperatures continued to
rise, until finally, in the dusty, dried up days of August, the rain —
at last — came.
After day upon day of parched summer heat, the rain was such a
welcome relief! The children shrieked with joy and begged to go out in
it. I said “No” at first, almost automatically. But one look at their
crushed expressions and I reconsidered. It had been much too hot to
play outside lately — how could I say no now?
“Well… OK,” I said with a grin. “But stay on the porch. And
keep an eye on your little sister!”, I called to the back of their
As they headed out the front door, I felt an almost forgotten rush
of glee. Smiling to myself, I ran to get the towels and umbrellas and
soon joined my children on the front porch. There, they danced and
giggled, and leaned out as far as they could, catching the rain on their
hands. They squealed in approval whenever the wind blew the rain their
way. Only Abby was timid. She stayed safely near my side, and when the
wind tickled her face with moist spray, she shivered and clung tighter
to my hand.
After a while, I timidly stepped out from under the porch roof,
safely beneath the protective waterproof fabric of the umbrella. I held
my navy parasol in one hand and Abby’s drippy little fingers in my
other. Finally, I couldn’t restrain myself anymore.
In a burst of childlike impulsiveness, I tossed my umbrella aside.
Feeling like a kid again, I gathered my two-year-old and headed out into
the downpour. She blinked and scrunched up her wee nose in
disapproval. Before long, however, she was tilting her face to the sky
and catching raindrops in her mouth.
“Come on!” I called to the boys. “Come out here with us!”
Daniel and Thomas looked surprised (like Mom had gone a little
mad), but they didn’t argue. Eagerly they grabbed the big black umbrella
that had been their grandfathers. I watched them as they struggled to
raise it, and as they fumbled trying to share the handle. They squished
together, trying to make themselves fit under the very center of the
Something about my funny little boys and that big umbrella made my
eyes unexpectedly fill with warm tears, which ran unrestrained down my
already soaked cheeks.
The rain intensified. Still, we stayed. The gutter in front of
our house had become a small stream. It actually bubbled and rippled as
it grew and tumbled toward the water retention basin at the end of the
Suddenly inspired, I sent the boys inside for a few supplies. In a
jiffy they returned from the house with a grocery bag holding the simple
construction supplies they had procured from the kitchen.
For the next hour we made makeshift tinfoil boats. Then we sailed
them, skippered by toothpick-and-scotch-tape men. Abby giggled with
glee as she watched her brothers and I race our shiny little vessels
down the river of rain.
Later that night, after warm baths and a nourishing dinner, I
tucked my children into their beds with a heart full of joy.
It had been an unforgettable day, thanks to a little inspiration
and a summer’s rain.
— Natalie Whitlock Walker