Moments #36: October Rain

I used to love storms.

Living in Texas, you eventually get used to the long and dry summers, but it’s still always a good feeling when it starts to rain again. Up until two years ago, I got excited whenever I saw that we were under any type of weather alert. I loved the sound of the rain. I loved the way the wind howled. I even loved the thunder and the lightning. Sometimes, the lights would blink and the power would go out, but it didn’t bother me because it just added to the atmosphere.

That all changed on the night of May 27th, 2o24. I was already feeling anxious because my father was in the hospital. On Sunday, he had been in a car accident and, when I went to the hospital, he seemed like he was going to be okay. He had a broken shoulder and was obviously tired, but he was speaking normally and, when he saw me, he said he was happy to see me. He smiled, I remember that. A nurse told me that they were going to keep him for the night for observation. On Monday morning, I drove back to the hospital and, when I arrived, he was basically passed out in his bed. When I asked another nurse if he would be ready to go home anytime soon, she looked at me like I was asking a crazy question. I remember another nurse saying something about “rehab.” They promised me that a doctor would call. I went home. It turned out that they weren’t lying. A doctor did call that evening. He said my father was having trouble walking. I explained that he had Parkinson’s. The doctor said he would email me some information on the rehab centers that worked with my father’s insurance. “So,” I dumbly asked, “he’s not going home tonight?” The doctor laughed and said, “No, it’s going to be a while.”

At 9:00, I lay down on my couch and, exhausted, I fell asleep. I didn’t even bother to take off my clothes. I woke up at four in the morning to the sound of thunder and rain and howling wind. I tried to turn on the living room light, just to discover that the power was out. I stood up, stubbed my toe on an end table, said the F-word as loudly as I’ve ever said it, and then I limped over to the front door. I looked outside and the scene was apocalyptic. Rain was falling in sheets, the streets were flooded, and there were tree limbs strewn everywhere. A few trees had fallen over. The ones that still stood were violently swaying in the wind. I immediately thought of the stray cats that I fed every morning. Stupidly, I opened the front door to yell for them and I was immediately drenched.

By 7 in the morning, the rain was steady but light. I saw that Hunter and Hannah, who lived across the street from me, were outside, looking at the storm’s aftermath. I stepped outside, waved, and started to walk towards them. They saw me limping so they told me to stay where I was and came over to me. They asked me if Erin and I were okay. They told me that power was out all over town and that, when they called Oncor, they were told there was no estimate on when it would come back. We stood there and we looked up and down the block. Everything was wet. The road was so full of limbs that it appeared to be practically impassable. Trees had fallen over. Some people had broken windows. My own front door was sitting slightly off of its hinges.

(Don’t worry. Despite all the damage, the strays showed up to ask for food.)

I assumed that we would have our power back by the end of the day. Instead, the power was out for six days. It fell to the people living in the neighborhood to clean up the debris. (Even after the power came back, it would still be nearly a month before city clean-up crews got to us.) I saw a lot of really impressive things during those six days. Jeff helped to clean the streets and also helped our older neighbors with their fallen trees. Erin Nicole went to the store for people who couldn’t make it there on their own. As for me, I worried. I worried about everything. Several times, I tried to call the hospital to check on my father and all I got was some vague talk about how he had been moved to a different room. Meanwhile, the rain continued to fall. Sometimes, it was a drizzle and sometimes it was a shower, but every time it was a reminder of how little control I had over anything.

Eventually, the power came back. All of the debris was cleared. The rain stopped. My father was transferred from the hospital to the rehab center and then to home hospice, where he died two and a half months later. Ever since that week, there’s been a part of me that’s gotten anxious whenever I’ve seen that there’s a storm coming. It just brings back too many bad feelings.

A storm was predicted for October 1st this year and I was nervous. What if the power went out? What if I couldn’t contribute to this year’s Horrorthon? Well, I’m happy to say that the storm turned out to be a gloriously beautiful and rather peaceful rain shower. Sometimes, it was a heavy shower and sometimes it was a light shower, but there was a gentleness to it. I spent most of Thursday afternoon lying in bed in a comfy t-shirt and underwear, looking out the window and watching as the trees slowly and rhythmically swayed. The sound of the rain was relaxing and, as I listened to it, I remembered how much I loved the rain when I was growing up. And I realized that I still do.

It was the perfect start for October.

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