The sun had burned through the blinds and bored into Sheri’s blue eyes. The room was a mess, littered with clear empty bottles. She was awake but not wanting to be. The past night was not even a flash in her mind nor did it hold even a vague memory that she could recall. It seemed as though a high school marching band’s bass drummer was playing in her head. She pulled the covers over her head with flood of streaming profanity that welcomed most mornings.

Sheri was most times so angry the only color she could see was red. Her whole world was painted red. She was not angry with anyone really, she was angry with herself and the world around her. She was angered by her past; she was angered by the system that she felt held her down. She was angered at her powerlessness to arrest her fall into the darkness of her world. Most of all she was angered at God for the loss of her husband. .

Her bottle-induced disassociation lasted, but never long enough. She never could escape the pain that vexed her soul. Sometimes she just wanted her world to turn black, to be swallowed whole, fall in and feel no more. Yet she wanted to live, so she never could bring herself to escape into the blackness. It was just a thought she entrained, when the clear bottle held no more fire.

It seemed like only a moment ago he was there and she was happy. They lived in a small neighborhood, down a dusty road, in a small and cozy house. It was like another world altogether. It was her, “Only world.” It was full of the things she loved the most. Her husband, Michael, their two small children, Nancy and Jason.

It seem like a dream, one that shattered like the glass of the pickup windshield her husband went through as the Red Ford slid on an icy road and crashed to a sudden stop as it hit the utility pole, head-on.

Sheri had managed for a short while, that was before the system had issued a series of knockout punches that she felt put her out of the count. She had tried to get up off life’s mat many times but each time fall back hard. She was getting by, but barely. She pursued what happiness she could find, but to her happiness was a “grand illusion,” something that she found only for a short while, before it escaped and she has searched for it again.

It would have been easier if he had died like the illusion she entertained for that moment. He had not died. He had run off with another women leaving her. A nasty divorce ensued. It was highly unusual, but he had gotten custody of their children. She knew that money was power and she had none at the time. So she had been at his and his lawyer’s mercy, unable to mount a fight.

The day he took her children was the day she lapsed into nothingness of the bottled black tunnel that allowed her to feel or care about nothing.

She had gotten up; it was a dark overcast day one that matched her mood. She collected the few bills she had left, got into her car and driven to the supermarket. She had quickly found what she wanted, paid for it. She just leaving when the sky opened up and it began raining.

They all crowed into the glassed in entryway. That is when she noticed the little girl and her mother that had been ahead of her in the checkout line.

The little girl had been shopping with her mom in the store. She must have been six years old, this beautiful brown haired, freckle faced image of innocence, that reminder her of Nancy.

It was pouring outside. The kind of rain that gushes over the top of rain gutters, so much in a hurry to hit the earth it has no time to flow down the spout. They all stood there. They waited, some patiently, others irritated because nature messed up their hurried day.

Sheri was always mesmerized by rainfall. She got lost in the sound and sight of the heavens washing away the dirt and dust of the world. Memories of running, splashing so carefree as a child would come pouring in as a welcome reprieve from the life she was living.

The little girls voice was so sweet as it broke the hypnotic trance they were all caught in. "Mom, let's run through the rain," she said. "What?" Mom asked. "Let's run through the rain!" She repeated. "No, honey. We'll wait until it slows down a bit," Mom replied. This young child waited about another minute and repeated: "Mom, let's run through the rain." "We'll get soaked if we do," Mom said. "No, we won't, Mom. That's not what you said this morning," the young girl said as she tugged at her mom's arm. "This morning?

When did I ever say we could run through the rain and not get wet?" "Don't you remember? When you were talking to daddy about his cancer, you said, 'If God can get us through this, he can get us through anything!'"

The entire crowd stopped dead silent. Only the rain could be heard as it drummed against the windows and roof. They all stood silently as if frozen in the moment. No one came or left. It was as if the universe stood still.

Her mom paused and thought for a moment about what she would say. Now most would laugh it off and scold her for being silly. Some might even ignore what was said.

The silence was broken my her mothers voice, "Honey, you are absolutely right. Let's run through the rain. If God lets us get wet, well maybe we just needed washing,"

Off they ran. Some stood watching, smiling and laughing as they darted past the cars and yes, through the puddles. Shopping bags over their heads just in case. They got soaked. A few who screamed and laughed like children all the way to their cars followed them.

Sheri walked slowly out into the rain, first stopping at the trashcan and pitching her bag's content into the trashcan. She walked slowly to her car opening the door. She got in. She was soaked, water dripping down her face and onto the seat. Some of the drops that fell down her face were not rain, but tears. She needed washing too. She was soaked from head to feet, but she was warm all over. It was like she walked into the light at the end of the long dark tunnel, that was her life. The light was love, acceptance and forgiveness.

Even though she sat in the car all by herself. She didn’t feel lonely for the first time in my life. She felt connected to a larger whole. She wanted to change her life. It was not going to be easy, but she was going to change.

© Rick Benninghoven 2004.