Piercing Rain: An Onslaught Of Memories

“One of the keys to happiness is a bad memory.”

– Rita Mae Brown

Memories

It beings as a drip.

Drip.

Funny that it often starts when I am in the shower. Is that irony? Or is it Alanis Morissette’s version of irony?

Drip.

One memory hits my consciousness like a raindrop. Are there bad memories and good memories? Or just memories?

Drip.

Drop.

Now, it’s a puddle. One drop hits and it ripples out. A brief moment flashes by in a blur, and then the details begin to spread.

They grow clearer.

Drip.

Drip.

Now, it’s a stream. More drops. More details. Another memory, sometimes related, but sometimes not. Blur, blur, clarity.

Pain.

This is not a warm summer shower. It’s an icy, sharp rain. Hard, piercing drops.

Drip.

Drip.

My tears spill out and join the rain.

Now, it’s a flood.

The memories overwhelm me, and all I can do is keep my head above the water.

When the sun finally comes out, the only thing I know for sure is that it will eventually rain again.

Drip.

Drop.

Maybe next time, I’ll have an umbrella.

Author: Tamara Reynolds

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2 Comments

    • The next time is the first time we have never met. I love the drips so close to my rain. Thank you.

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