She once told me that it was her great desire for it to rain on the day of her funeral,
and I thought this made her a bit of a pessimist,
and looking back,
I should have asked her about this wish of hers,
There was no lady in control of the rain,
perhaps it was because it had been his area of expertise for so long,
they associated the lightning bolt with the concept of a downpour,
And when we were young,
she had always said,
when it rains, it pours,
and again, I thought her a pessimist,
But I think there was more to it than that,
certainly there was,
it could not have been that she just wanted to sway this one way,
or the other,
but I did recall again,
that when we were very little,
when her father died,
it was sunny,
it was Tuesday,
and she asked the rain to come back,
she said this was another day,
and at dusk,
at his burial,
there was nothing but the Fata Morgana
and a periwinkle sky
No comments:
Post a Comment