Only a couple minutes after I posted a couple old family heirloom rocking chairs on Facebook, a lady wanted them and said she’d send her husband out just after dark tonight. I hated to part with them, but we have no-one to pass them on to and we need to declutter some more. I remember the one chair in my parent’s home from my earliest days. It was a wedding gift to them from Mom’s paternal grandpa in 1948, and was over 100 years old even back then. The other is a Shaker rocker and sat for many years on the front porch of the Jenny Lind home of some elderly cousins in the Volcano, West Virginia oilfields.
The tater wagon had been making circles around us for a couple hours or better, before it finally began raining early this evening. I was sitting on the porch enjoying the wind and the distant rumbling until huge drops of rain began falling and within a couple minutes turned into a downpour. Soon, the wind picked up a bit more and my seat in the porch swing was no longer a dry one, so I went back in the house.
About 15 minutes before the earliest the guy could supposedly come for the chairs, I went out and sat in the truck. The wind had died down, but I knew that the mosquitoes would soon find me in the swing, whereas I’d be safe in the truck. The rain was coming down at a pretty good clip, so it made an obvious clamor on the roof of the truck. It reminded me of the days when I was a kid, and would open the door in my bedroom to the back attic room so I could hear the rain hit the tin roof on that part of the house. During the day, I’d sometimes sit on the back porch when it was raining, since it also had a tin roof.
I sat in my truck for 45 enjoyable minutes before the guy showed up. During that time, I didn’t hum or whistle, nor did I play the truck radio. I did like I did as a kid and just sat and enjoyed the experience, though I DID watch the deer wander around the neighbor’s yard across the road. I can only imagine a kid of today sitting quietly for 45 minutes listening to the rain—no talking, no texting, no video games and no fidget spinners. Times have changed; people have changed; thank goodness the sound of rain on a tin roof remains the same. © 2017