City streets were empty. There was no bustle on the sidewalks. One lone street cleaner made it’s way down Clark Street. A cat hissed in an alleyway. Water slapped Kathy Osterman Beach. Storm clouds filled the midnight sky. He just sat watching.
Out on the backyard stoop was a man drinking a beer. As he opened each one he was reminded of his youth. Back when storms terrified him. He would hide in his bedroom under covers, shivering, waiting for the rain and the thunder to stop. Now, he embraced it.
He looked at the lightening dance. Hummed along to the sound of thunder. Washed his soul in the rain. And, he’d call out, Thank you Lord. Thank you Jesus, running his greasy hands through his greasy hair. Knowing full well the cleansing wouldn’t last long.
It got to be where these baptisms were the only part of life the old man enjoyed. Sitting in the rain; reflecting. Mistakes made. Choices. Always choices.
Twas morning and the sun peaked down on him. He finished his last beer and called it a night. Hoping that another storm was coming soon.