This is One Day

Today is a rainy day.

I’m in love with its light. The color is a soft grey that doesn’t blind you like sunshine. Unlike the harsh overhead sun-monster, the rainy day hovers and showers down on the green licorice grass. And when it is still, the floating air expands and gently sits in the branches of a dark cedar tree that holds it like a child, snug. I know I’m getting a little carried away but today is so peaceful. Usually it’s a wind storm, battering and pounding on the tin roof that perches above my tiny county house. I’ve lived in tornado alley before, but I lived in the city and had a cozy basement.  My little home, lounging in the middle of the prairie is all alone, is defenseless against devil winds.

Yet, storms are not the only discerning occurrence out here. Rattlesnakes and I share some common spaces. Animals howl and owls hoot and I believe that Lenore is waiting outside with the hounds of hell, crawling over the moor with a death rattle. I’ve read too many stories about goblin fairs and people who are still alive cemented into the wall,  spider webs across a decrypted wedding dress, Little Red Riding Hood, plagues and murders, wicked witches and smooth vampires; spooky is part of my nature. In my brain sleeps decades of horror stories and right now, I sit in the plot of at least five at any given moment. Combine that with the prairie’s whistling wind screaming down the plane, I’ve become very conscious of my surroundings. Like any good Oklahoman, when I get scared, I put my boots on. It’s all about survival.

But then you have today, still and fresh. Everything rests--all in comas, staring up at the sky, content and lackadaisical. And as the day begins to fade, I hear birds chirping and I’m looking through the screen door, thankful for small moments of calm amidst the chaos. 

Happy absent sun day, everyone.