136 / 156
138
Outside I heard the muffled laughter of my parents and my sister’s
feet clambering across the floor. Being one to never miss out, I
frantically ran to the door to join the rest on my family.
We all stood content in the kitchen; watching on as water
continuously slid down past the window panes. It was me who took
the first step outside. I felt the water drifting past my feet as it had
not yet soaked into the arid land. The water filled up the formation
of crevices to make miniature rivers that I imagined ants would want
to picnic around. Only after did I notice droplets prickling against
my skin, so I turned to look up at the stormy sky. Rain had erupted
from above to cut through the numbing heat. My sister and I ran
around laughing, slowly getting drenched, but we didn’t care. It was
the first time in months that felt alive. Dad, who stood, the pent up
frustration draining from his body, stretched his arms towards me. I
flinched at the contact. But instead, he picked me up and spun me
around in a fit of impulsivity.
After some time we all returned inside, cold and soaking.
Wrapping ourselves in towels from the spare cupboard, we all sat as
a family, in the lounge room. The rain washed away our past and left
us reunited, waiting for dawn.
For weeks after, the rain didn’t come. My Dad was positive for a
while; the rain had quenched a much needed thirst for hope. But a
few weeks on, we sat resigned at the dinner table; talking about
anything, which was nothing.
‘
The Drought
11