I woke up to the rain. It hasn’t rained here since the spring. I listened to the drops against the window. The trees must be so happy, I thought. The grass. The plants. They’ve all been suffering.
Growing up in Minnesota, whenever it rained, someone always said, “Well, we needed it.” I guess that happens everywhere. There must have been a time when this wasn’t true. Louie Anderson even had a bit on it, saying, it could be flooding and someone will still say, “Well, we needed the rain…” or they’d often throw in – “Well, the farmers…” Like anyone knew what the farmers needed.
So I was happy for the trees, the garden, smiling even, until I walked into our office. That so lovely and needed rain had pounded through our windows. The floor was wet. Paintings were wet. It was a mess. It has happened before. We thought we had the problem fixed. Apparently not. I’ve cleaned up most of it. Paintings are drying. And I didn’t even cry. (This matters because I’m a big crier. It doesn’t take a lot to make this happen.) But not today. I wiped with towels. And more towels. Put them in the washer. And did my French lesson. Still no tears.
It didn’t matter if I was happy about it or not, the trees and grass were still happy. And I could hear the Louis Anderson of my Minnesota heart saying, “Well, we needed it…” and I smiled.
My cheeks are dry. We don’t always get what we want, sometimes we get what we need.