...late night thinking...

Invisible to the eye, but I know the grass is alive with crickets, frogs, and other beasties. They are collectively raising their voices...the nights belong to them, while during the day, the cicadas rule. I use it as a lullaby.

The last week has been filled with water. We had days of rain, with Friday being the largest demonstration yet. As I was frantically counting down the drawer at work, wanting to beat the weather and rest my allergy-ridden body, the sky opened up - not with delicate plink-plinks, but with "we've either done something really bad or really good (depending on your perspective)" RAIN. In the five second run to my car I became soaked. I briefly debated waiting it out, then decided to just go on home...down Main...crossing the Plaza, I should have known to turn around...the water was already pooling. Main turns into Brookside...at 51st Street, water is tumbling down the hill. A giant SUV was in front of me, and I couldn't see what kind of water I was getting into...then the branches started floating by, and I could see smaller cars beginning to lift. My car thought it might die, but then decided not to. Possibly it was all of the fearful tears pouring from my eyes that made it stay the course. I just wanted to be able to see Jeremy again...that is all that I could think of. Making it home, the truck was gone...I thought it might be around the corner from earlier road work. I called from my car so he would open the door...no answer...nervous...called his cell phone...no answer...very nervous...dashed inside...his cell phone was on the counter, he was not home...I...did not handle it well. Coming from such a horrible drive, I did not want to discover that he was out in it too. When he pulled up, I sank to my knees and wept...I had been so saddened by the thought of losing him. Jeremy, of course, couldn't believe I had forgotten that at some point he was going to run to the store to get lemons for my sore throat! oh yeah...
The rain continued for hours and proceeded to drop 8 inches at the most, and 4 inches at the least.

Daddad and I looked through old photo albums today. We found one that contained pictures of his and Mama's cruise to South America, as well as the trip to Africa, and one of the Mexico trips! My favorite album though, was the beautiful, dusty blue leather one with squiggly embossing and "Photographs" written on the corner in that perfect,old font. It has black pages, but what interested me most were what the photo corners on those pages contained...it's an album Mama put together with photos of her ranging from when she was a kid, in college, with Daddad, and adding Mom. There are lots of other family members contained in there too...Tola and Herbert (Grandmommie and Fafa - Mama's parents,)Charles - her brother, some of Daddad's siblings and their children, old chums, pets...I love to soak up any family stuff, but I am particularly desperate for images/stories of Mama. She became very sick when I was in 2nd grade, and stayed that way until she passed away while I was in 4th. We never got to fully appreciate our similiarities and differences.
I wish I could have known Tola and Herbert as well...I enjoy piecing together what they were like from things they've left behind - stories, photographs, drawings, ephemera. Mom says they would have really enjoyed me.
I am grateful that my other three grandparents were/are around for so much of my life, and were so much...fun!
I'm not trying to live in the past, I just like to soak in it from time to time and realize where certain traits may have come from.