The rain slices sideways toward the windows in the gale of off shore winds. The river and creeks are swollen and the inhabitants hold their breaths. Fresh, clear, runoff is wasted sluicing down the gutters and drains of a dry country. This land is ancient and hungry for moisture.
Yet, here it is, deluged and swamped with water from the sky off the sea, from the land of this desert place.
What fools are we.
What amazingly stupid and arrogant idiots to mis-use such bounty.
But it has been ever thus.
And across the world is an old poor country setting itself up as a great host to rich and elite sportspeople. Whilst their millions ache with the stench of need, their government sets up running water and four walls for visitors without conscience.
And admist all this, a phone call from South Korea.
He explains his forgetfulness ....about friends visiting and being the perfect host and I nod and say; "Of course you have a life".
Then he begins his gift; a gift of words and realisations.
He talks on how it is that I am his mother and what I gave, dedicated, provided and finally, what I did to let him/them go. How hard was that he muses.
It was painful and awe-filled but necessary.
No, we say to 'well meaning' folk; we cannot go and visit any of them in different countries or states. We sit in our little hole and hold each other for warmth as we await their visitations like a religious disciple awaiting the coming of their Lord.
And so the rain pours and the tears have flowed from the eyes of a mother too much in love to be sane.
She/me has been to hell and back (in my own way) and now turn to a professional to put it all in place. A professional paid for by the tax payer.
The rain slaps and screams itself agains our home and the love for my children slaps and screams its way from my womanhood to the cosmos.
I am reborn.
Rain giveth, children giveth....and life will take me away through my death, from the very things I treasure.
Such is life.
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