Downpour

Trawling through the archives:

Downpour: Take 1

Downpour: Take 2

*

When trawling through the archives of long ago notations, I found two reflections of distance, longing and perception.

The theme? Brisbane’s flash thunderstorms and soaking rains.

As I looked at my writing within the notebook, each ‘Downpour’ reflection stood in isolation; randomly interspersed within an extended and unrelated plotline I was exploring.

I was reading each piece to a friend when I laughed out loud and held up a slip of carbon paper.

He smiled and asked, “Why?”

I replied, “Sometimes I found the need to insert the blue page of duplication.”

From the red strike-through word deletion or duplication marks and red cross-hatched arrows for word relocation, this simple observation of pen pressed via carbon copy captured the iterations of two moments in time.

*

Downpour: Take 1

[ Adelaide: Date 21 April 1998 ]

When you live in Brisbane the rain comes in the summer.

The afternoon thunderstorm is eagerly awaited. It provides a momentary break from the unyielding humidity.

Stark white lightning, rumbling thunder and the plick of hailstones on the windows.

First rain drops begin to descend from the heavy grey sky. Then comes the downpour.

*

Downpour: Take 2

[ Brisbane: Date 7 July 2017 ]

Yesterday I was struggling with the title for a short reflective piece to express the need to protect my mind from a build-up of emotion and distress.

An expression to capture with brevity the strategies I needed to ameliorate an attack on my physical and cognitive environments.

Two words solved the problem: ‘Soul shelter.’

This morning I woke to a crack of recognition!

I threw back the covers, ran to the bathroom, rummaged through my laundry hamper and found my well-worn woollen red knitted cardigan.

Back to my room, knowing they were there, somewhere. Yes! I found them and slipped on my well-worn woollen red knitted fingerless gloves. I knew I’d need them.

Clarity!

Kettle on.

White plunger coffee sweetened with brown sugar.

I grabbed my key lanyard. Snatched up my writing satchel with the blue and white tassel. Remembered my umbrella and opened my door.

My suspicions affirmed.

Straight to the gate, I unlocked it and walked to the covered wooden picnic table in the park opposite.

I sat down with a visceral relief.

I’d made it.

I caught the moment.

First rain drops begin to descend from the heavy grey sky. Then comes the downpour.

Sit still.

Warm hands around coffee.

Reflect. Quietly consider.

Drift into the swift of physical sensations.

Mind relaxing.

Sensory relief.

Anticipating. Monday in reach. Approaching ever slowly …

I had rediscovered peace.

Pauline Fountain. © 2023. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be used or reproduced without the written permission of the author.