Rain and Sweet Elderly Men

I get a little depressed sometimes on how much I hate it down here. It is crowded, there has been poor urban planning so the roads are insufficient, the people are downright rude and inhospitable, and well, it is hot as hell. I can deal with the heat, that’s what a/c is for, but the other things, it bums me out. Top it off the fact that I have been here for 16 years and probably only have two close friends. One I met in college (and we thankfully do breakfast once a week) and we worked at the same facility, and the other was in one of my groups at work, we were pregnant together, and we don't see each other much. My other friends live in Atlanta, Connecticut, around Pensacola or DC. My family is scattered. I have no family here. So I get bummed out at times.

It is odd how things come together. I've been more low about it lately than I have been in awhile. Today I got together with my friend in town I don’t see much. We had our boys playing together and they all laugh so hard and it truly is a wonderful sound. Then this afternoon I took the older two boys to Karate and that left Son#3 and I to go to Publix (our supermarket). When we got there, it had started to rain.

I love the rain. Everything about it. The sound. The feel. The smell. There is just something about it. We have been parched down here and have needed this rain so badly. So I grab my sidekick and throw him on my left hip, grab an umbrella, and off I run through the rain, both of us laughing hysterically. Running in the rain always makes me laugh. I have no clue why; but I just find it so humorous. We get in the store and the two of us are still giggling and carrying on, he is now sitting in the back of the grocery cart.

We walk into the meat section and this elderly man stops and says to Son#3, “Do you know how important it is to listen to your big sister? It is really really important.”
Son #3 greets him with a blank stare.

The elderly man continues, “It really is. It is so important you always listen to your big sister. This is your big sister isn’t it?”
Son#3, still looking puzzled, shakes his head no.

The man persists, “Oh, well, she cannot possibly be your Aunt. Is she your Aunt?”
Son#3 shakes his head no again.

“She’s not? She’s not your Aunt? Well she surely cannot be your Mom. She cannot be more than 17 years old!”, is his reply.
Son#3 now looks shocked and is shaking his head and saying,”Nuh uh! She is my Mom! Really, she is!”

The man is laughing now, I’m laughing and I thank him and we go our ways. Trust me, I don’t look 17. I do look young, but not THAT young! (Although some man who does business with my husband asked him about his ‘daughter’ at a picnic we were attending a few weeks ago. My Better Half is only 5 years older than I. I was completely mortified but my Better Half thinks it’s a riot and tells everyone.)

I have found that Son#3 brings this sweetness out in people. People love to stop and tease him. That one little man made all the nastiness I have witnessed in the last two weeks, just melt away.

Son#3 spent the rest of the time in Publix saying, "Mom. Did that man REALLY think you were my sister? Huh? Mom? Huh?" He didn't get the whole teasing thing.

As we leave the store, it is now torrential and there is no way we can make it back to the Mom-mobile without a good soaking. So we crouch under the awning, against a wall, I break out some chocolate cookies I bought, and Son#3 huddles close and we eat cookies, waiting for the storm to stop, watching the rain pass by, listening to the rumble of the thunder and…. It was a very good day today.