For several weeks it has been raining at my house. Nonstop, following you, hanging over your head wherever you go like a Charlie Brown cartoon, heavy downpour. We’ve known for seventeen years our oldest was going to graduate and there has been a nearly two decades countdown clock that has rapidly neared all zeros the last few weeks. Everything that has happened these last few weeks has been either a “this is the last time” or “from now on” type of moment. The rains came down and the floods came up.
Before I tell you about that, let me tell you about this. I was probably thirteen years old when I first fell in love with the drum beat from Led Zeppelin’s “When The Levee Breaks.” The strange thing is, I heard the drum beat before I ever heard the song. It was sampled by the Beastie Boys in their song “Rhymin’ & Stealin’” which me and my buddy Jode played a few million times. I would be sixteen years old before I heard the actual song. I was in the basement of a guy named Harvey when I heard it. His girlfriend and my girlfriend were sisters and we had gone to Harvey’s basement to play cards. At some point that night he put on the Led Zeppelin IV record and Robert Plant’s high pitched wail at the beginning of “Black Dog” flowed from the speakers and filled the room, literally stopping me in my tracks. What was this music? I remember loving the entire album, start to finish (still do), but I came to love that one song in particular. This was the first song I learned to play on drums (one of only three I ever learned). Funny thing is, for years I loved this song without having a clue what a levee was (until I visited New Orleans). Thanks to Katrina I will never forget what a levee is, or why if it keeps raining, they could break.
As strange as it may sound, I’ve thought about this song in an entirely new light lately. I haven’t written anything for over a month due to writers block. Well, that wall came crashing down tonight. It hasn’t been literally raining in my house, but I’ve been under a dark cloud of sadness realizing how quickly everything has passed with the oldest. For me its been like an hourglass. When the sand first begins to drain from the hourglass it is very slow and almost can’t be noticed. But when the sand is almost gone, it seems like it picks up speed. That has been the last few weeks of my life. It has seemingly accelerated at an alarming pace. I first noticed how much “rain” had been falling while at an Alan Jackson concert a few days ago. He sang the song “Remember When” and I could have sworn I heard thunder on that clear sky night. Then it was the Senior banquet at church. Awards night at school. His first day of work at a real, full time job. Senior chapel. Rain drops keep falling on my head.
Graduation night was a party for the graduates, but it felt almost like a funeral to me. Don’t misunderstand, I’m so proud of and happy for my son, but we’ve always been very close and spent tons of time together and I know that beginning now it will be different. Things will change. They will never be the same again. That became a stark reality today when we packed the car for a three week trip and he went to work. This was the rain drop that caused the flood and broke the levee. He hugged me, said goodbye, I love you, and I realized this would be the longest I have ever been without seeing my child. He walked out the front door and I walked to my room and cried. Believe me, it was a flood of emotion.
Funny thing is, God has a history of using floods to cleanse things for new beginnings, and He did just that for me today. When we got to Pulaski and unpacked the car, I told my dad I wanted to go for a ride in the truck on the farm. I don’t remember the last time I rode the farm and it just felt like something I needed to do. The youngest (who is fifteen and ready to get his drivers permit) suggested he drive. It sounded like a great idea to me. He and my dad hopped in the cab of the ’96 Chevy S10 that my dad has driven for seventeen years and I stood in the bed of the truck and leaned on the cab and we took off. My dad teaching the youngest how to drive a stick shift (and for the record he was way more patient with him than he was when teaching me) and me just along for the ride. Growing up we hated getting behind what we called “Sunday drivers” (people with no place to be, just slowly driving along taking in the sights), but tonight I relished being with one. April showers bring May flowers.
I was nearly paralyzed by how gorgeous everything was. The hay was waist high. Everything was green. Everywhere I looked I saw clover, wild roses and daisies, purple and yellow flowers and the air was thick with the smell of honeysuckle in full bloom. It was as if Mother Nature had put on her best perfume. The dogs chased rabbits, bullfrogs were croaking and herons flew from the pond as we passed by. I walked down by the creek to watch the sunset over the hay field filled with freshly rolled bales. It was just what I needed. After the rain everything is fresh, clean and the blue skies and sunshine return.
Sure I thought about our four wheeler rides through those fields, the fencing we did in the pasture, the camping down by the creek, throwing football in the front yard, but this time the tears didn’t come. Instead I smiled and looked through the window at my dad, and my youngest learning to drive his truck, me in the back, three generations together, and I realized this is one of those moments that years from now I will wish I could relive. Only, now, I don’t have to wish because I am living it. So I stopped and soaked it all in. Uh, oh. It looks like rain.
