Deluge by Ellie Ness
Geri looked out the window at her mother and despaired. Standing in a floral dress in the middle of her carpet of wild flowers as heavy rain soaked them all to their foundations, mum looked blissful.
“What on earth are you doing?” Geri called from the protection of the open kitchen door awning, wondering all the while if her mother was becoming senile living on her own.
Her mother laughed and said, “You should try it sometime. Summer rain is warm and cleansing. I feel reborn, just like the flowers.”
Geri’s mother made her way back inside, dancing a little as she proceeded down the path. She grabbed a towel from the back of the door and made her way towards the shower room to peel off her wet clothes before changing into something more… appropriate.
“What’s the point of living if you can’t dance in the rain?” she asked. “Can you enjoy the rain as much as the sunshine?”
Geri really didn’t have an answer for that.
It was time to travel to the hospital, to begin the next round of chemo. Mum seemed to be coping, even if Geri was a crunched up ball of anguish inside.
If dancing in the rain helped, then dancing in the rain would have to be something that they would do together next time.
Ellie Ness writes poetry and flash fiction for fun when not walking her dog along beaches or through woods. She has had poetry published in Spillwords, Yarns, Dreich, Gallus, Green Ink Poetry, Wordworkers At The HAC Anthology and, most recently, in the Samaritans Hope Anthology.
Photo by Robert Stump on Unsplash
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