On A Rainy Day

At first, it was so light, you could hardly tell it was raining at all. Then, it started to get heavier. You could hear it tapping against the roof. You could see it falling from the angry black storm clouds covering every single inch of the sky above. It was pouring down, bucketing. There were puddles everywhere. It had rained so much that it seemed a wonder there was any water left to fall. But fall it did. It did not stop. It didn't improve, instead, it stayed a as it was or grew heavier. A constant, at times deafening pitter patter on roofs that brought with it a bitter, dreary cold. And wet.

Granddad ran without hesitation outside into the sprinkling rain. He spread his arms wide, turning his face up to the sky with, we all hoped, his eyes closed. He spin round in gleeful circles. His young great-grandson followed him out, a big smile on his face. At the door, he pulled on his gumboots with great effort before running clumsily after the old man. His wrinkled face lights up with joy as he turns to see the bumbling toddler coming toward him. The toddler's face reflects the absolute delight in his own. The old man bends down, easily lifting the young boy into the air, proceeding to waltz the two of them around the yard, singing a tune we cannot here from where we are watching, the sound of the rain drowning it out completely, as the young boy laughs uncontrollably. He leans back in Granddad's arms as he does so, spreading his arms and allowing the cool raindrops to fall on his face.

The young boy's mother, my sister, wanders nearby, open umbrella in hand as she gently runs her fingers across the delicate, wet flower petals. Every so often she glances over at the toddler and the old man, a small smile on her lips as she watches them, happily oblivious to most of the world but each other and the rain falling down on them.

In the next room, my brother sits, hands hugging his knees to his chest and a big fat frown on his face. Sulking. Because the power's out and he can't sit glued to technology as he does most of the time. He spends so much time with technology that he has no idea what to do without it. He has no plan B, and so he sits, staring off into space, sulking. The most we get from his a groan. Now that our parents have gone crook at him for repeatedly asking things they can't possibly know the answer to. Why is the power out? When will it come back? How long will it take for the power to come back on?

With a heavy sigh, I turn to look back out the window at Granddad, my sister and her son. All joyously soaking up the now pouring rain. All seems quiet, pretty, serene. Until it's not. Suddenly, with a loud crush bang, my mother bursts into the room, rushing past me in a flying blur and roaring through the back door. She lifts a newspaper I hadn't noticed her holding  over her head and runs out to Granddad. "Dad!" I hear her yell through the door, "what do you think you're doing!?" I glance at my sister, who is unobtrusively watching on while pretending to still be absorbed in the wet flower petals in the garden.
"And stringing Nile along for the ride!?" Mum goes on. She glances at my sister. "Lilly at least had the good sense to fetch her umbrella." In unison, my sister and I roll our eyes behind our mother's back. "Dad! You'll fall ill! Come on, back inside," Mum reaches out to lead Granddad away, but he shrugs her off.

Miraculously at that moment, the rain slows right down. Granddad points up. My mother, sister and I all follow his gaze to see a faint but bright rainbow has appeared in the sky. "Look, see?" He says, softly, gently turning back to my mother. "Rain doesn't have to be bad, all dark and gloomy. It can be beautiful, joyous." The wide beam on Granddad's face appears inerasable

I smile. I like Grandad's outlook. His view. There's nearly always a rainbow after the rain, I can remember him telling me once. You shouldn't let anybody take it from you.