There will be rain.

It has been a long summer. Actually, it has just been a hot summer and that has caused it to drag on for weeks. Rain comes sparingly and alas, I can’t even remember the last thunderstorm. I am a sucker for summer storms. I miss the smell of them, and running around right through them until I’m dripping and my clothes weigh ten more pounds than they did prior. Even more, I miss walking in the front door, scrambling to change into dry clothes and then lying on the couch all-warm, with my mom making dinner in the kitchen next door. 1

I can tell that my Dad misses it too. He is out in the field everyday, watching the crops die and there ain’t a thing he can do. At dinnertime, every night, he sits there and prays to God for rain to come the next day. All he asks for is rain, not even a thunderstorm, but it never comes. And I ask him why he keeps praying, if it ain’t ever no use. He just turns to me and says, “It is too doggone easy to say that no one is listening. You’ll see, there will be rain.”2