{"id":4417,"date":"2016-01-15T05:07:43","date_gmt":"2016-01-15T12:07:43","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/?p=4417"},"modified":"2016-01-14T15:40:13","modified_gmt":"2016-01-14T22:40:13","slug":"rain-and-wisdom-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2016\/01\/rain-and-wisdom-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Rain and Wisdom"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Photo<\/a>

Photo by KristianneKoch.com<\/p><\/div>\n

Rain splatted against my calves and chin and one elbow as I turned cartwheels across the beach. Planted right-side-up, I shot a grin at Kate who had been throwing sand balls into the channel between our island and Pier 1.<\/p>\n

Kate dove into the water, her salt-stiff hair morphing into a mermaid halo as she swam under water.<\/p>\n

I followed, three steps behind and dove.<\/p>\n

We treaded water, delighting in the cool rain pelting our faces while warm sea cocooned our bodies.<\/p>\n

Across the channel, Matt careened off the end of the dock, his legs bicycling until he hit the water.<\/p>\n

Our younger brothers, Scott and R.J., hustled down the ladder to the water beside the pier and dog paddled toward us.<\/p>\n

I floated on my back, scanning the sky, making sure no lightning lurked in the clouds.<\/p>\n

The others played seal, tumbling, twirling, tucking their knees to their chests and turning like tires. Kate stood on her hands under water and poked her feet into rain-tickling sky.<\/p>\n

Fat fresh-water drops washed my face. I licked their sweetness from my lips. I dove back and down, chasing my toes like a human Ferris wheel. Round and round I went, rain, oxygen, and shouts of glee greeting me each time my face broke the surface.<\/p>\n

\"Photo<\/a>

Photo by KristianneKoch.com<\/p><\/div>\n

Even in this blissful spin of hot and cold, salt and fresh water, sunshine and purple clouds, the melancholy in me logged the chill, the salt, the shades of indigo.<\/p>\n

I dove toward the bottom, thinking I harbored heaviness because I was three and a half years older than Kate, four and a half older than Matt, and six and seven years older than Scottie and R.J. Maybe I was the only one sucked into the undertow of our families\u2019 dysfunctions.<\/p>\n

I took a breath, then swam along the sand, savoring the safety and warmth.<\/p>\n

My mind drifted to the house on 11th<\/sup> Street near 27th<\/sup> Avenue where we\u2019d lived when I was Kate, Matt, Scottie, and R.J.\u2019s ages.<\/p>\n

A stone crab casing, cowrie shell, and quartz ashtray we\u2019d brought back from Mexico sat on an end table in the living room. Dad, taking a break from building the Annie Lee<\/em> in our back yard, pounded dough into a tortilla on the dining room table that he\u2019d propped up with a cement block.<\/p>\n

I slumped in a straight-backed chair in front of the fan, considering climbing into the arms of my banyan tree for the afternoon or clearing more brush from the fort I\u2019d hollowed out of the overgrown bushes behind the bones of the boat. I brushed a hand over R.J.\u2019s blond head as he crawled past.<\/p>\n

\u201cSit up straight.\u201d Dad\u2019s voice startled me. I soldiered my spine like I\u2019d done a million times before. In this family Dad was the one with eyes in the back of his head. Now that I was on Dad\u2019s radar, I slid out of my seat, grabbed Dad\u2019s fish knife off the kitchen counter, and slipped out the back door before he could think up a chore to deliver me from boredom.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t need that kind of help.<\/p>\n

\"Photo<\/a>

Photo by KristianneKoch.com<\/p><\/div>\n

I tromped through the scent of gardenia and heaven and stopped at the sugarcane field next door to hack off a stalk. Sweat dripped in my eyes and I wiped it away with the crook of my arm. Five minutes later I sailed down 11th<\/sup> Street on my Dad-made scooter, sugar cane dangling from my lip like a cigar.<\/p>\n

I came up from the bay for a breath and pursed my lips. Even when I was younger, my mind recorded things like Dad nagging me to go barefoot to toughen my feet. I felt the sear of the cement on my soles\u2014fresh like I\u2019d ridden my scooter down the 11th<\/sup> Street sidewalk minutes instead of years ago.<\/p>\n

Rather than the sweetness of sugarcane, I focused on Lordes and Pupe\u2019s mother who made us play in the courtyard of their duplex where she could keep an eye on us\u2014as though I\u2019d lead her darlings astray.<\/p>\n

A few houses down, Cindy Rose, who would grow up to be a ballerina, was the closest thing to royalty I\u2019d ever met. She wore pretty dresses and never got dirty. On rare occasions when she wasn\u2019t pirouetting at ballet or doing homework, we played paper dolls or Barbies for an hour in the air-conditioned haven of her house or her leafy back yard.<\/p>\n

My friends\u2019 folks feared my white-trashy feet would smudge their white gardenia children. Long after the boat years I blamed Dad for their distaste. Dad left his lifeguarding livelihood and let the lawn go till it lapped my knees. Instead, he raised me and R.J. and an ark in the yard.\u00a0 In the 60\u2019s \u201cMr. Mom\u201d meant a man was less than a man. I knew differently. But thanks to Dad\u2019s naming and numbering my faults, the neighbors inventing more\u2014I was the one who felt like less than a girl.<\/p>\n

\"Photo<\/a>

Photo by KristianneKoch.com<\/p><\/div>\n

I breast-stroked parallel to the beach, my head ottering up for a face full of rain.<\/p>\n

First grade at Shenandoah Elementary roused a better mix of memories\u2014the sixth graders choosing me for flower girl in their play and Steven Redgrave:<\/p>\n

Mom accidently dropped me off an hour early for Steven\u2019s sixth birthday party.<\/p>\n

As embarrassment pooled in my belly, Steven\u2019s mother smiled into my eyes. \u201cYou\u2019re the only girl Steven wanted to invite. I made him invite his girl cousin.\u201d<\/p>\n

I felt special like Cindy Rose.<\/p>\n

She shooed us into the yard and Steven yelled, \u201cOne, two, three, go!\u201d<\/p>\n

We sprinted for the Buick parked on the far side of his yard.<\/p>\n

He out-touched me.<\/p>\n

Since it was his birthday I guessed it was okay that he beat me. Back at the starting line my eyes beaded on the Buick. I bet I could beat him this time, birthday or no birthday. I did the count and we took off. I pumped my legs as fast as I could, Steven matching my steps. I lunged for the back end of the car. My foot caught on a root and my face smacked into the bumper. Hard. Surprised tears spurted from my eyes.<\/p>\n

I went home from the party still smudged with princess, despite the ice cube pressed to my temple. Steven is partly to blame for my epiphany at the end of third grade.<\/p>\n

From the third grade portable, I\u2019d looked out the open door, away from the boy comically flamingoing at the pencil sharpener, so I wouldn\u2019t giggle. Dust flew around the playground, as a shiny new thought blew around me\u2014boys were different. Different good<\/em>.<\/p>\n

\"Photo<\/a>

Photo by KristianneKoch.com<\/p><\/div>\n

I peered at the Canfields and R.J. as the sun shouldered between the clouds and the rain shut off.<\/p>\n

The commingled scent of outboard fuel, mildew, and fish would always bump me into the barnacle sharp edges of Dad and my parents\u2019 busted marriage. The others would recall the simple joy of boat living. I didn\u2019t begrudge them their happy. Kate, Matt, Scottie, and R.J. would field their own heartbreaks in life. Pain doesn\u2019t leave any of us alone for long.<\/p>\n

The five of us deep-down liked each other, a respect born from peeling back each other\u2019s strengths on our myriad adventures. We all scored more fun living the life of dock rats than we\u2019d ever had\u2014before or since. Today as I write down my boat days, a lifetime later, I sense an epiphany almost as significant as the one in third grade: The friendship and fun fueled divine comfort during the final breakdown of my family.<\/p>\n

Pat Thornburg, a teacher who lived on the houseboat across from the Canfields painted each of us beautiful rocks in exchange for a kiss on her cheek. I suspect we\u2019ve all lost the mementos, but the years themselves\u2014for Kate, Matt, Scottie, R.J., and finally, me\u2014are stacked treasure in the chest of our lives.<\/p>\n

\"Photo<\/a>

Photo by KristianneKoch.com<\/p><\/div>\n

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Leave a comment, click on Facebook share, or check out my novels below. \ud83d\ude42<\/div><\/div>\n

\"Avra's<\/a>\"Tattered<\/a>\"Kicking<\/a>\"The<\/a>\"ChasingHappyFinal\"<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Rain splatted against my calves and chin and one elbow as I turned cartwheels across the beach. Planted right-side-up, I shot a grin at Kate who had been throwing sand balls into the channel between our island and Pier 1. Kate dove into the water, her salt-stiff hair morphing into a mermaid halo as she […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3501,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false}}},"categories":[2,337,66,326],"tags":[132,352],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\nRain and Wisdom - Ann Lee Miller<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2016\/01\/rain-and-wisdom-2\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Rain and Wisdom - Ann Lee Miller\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Rain splatted against my calves and chin and one elbow as I turned cartwheels across the beach. 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