Fresh Mud

I saw a lost little square of sunlight that had fallen from the sky on a cool, rainy day.

My face pressed to the screen door, the first stages of 7 year old “bored to death” becoming viral.

“You’ll catch your death out there….”

I’d rather die out there than in here.

The fresh mud is calling my name.

Possibilities….

Pieces of rain float with gusts of wind dance across our porch, my hands resting against the glistening screen, my small fingers twanging the door spring.

Heavy with cloud diamonds my eyelashes shimmer, my lips kissing and blowing rain drops through the screen, the sky nectar tingles as it rolls across my tongue like little sparkling pop rocks.

Rain is sweet ambrosia, but fresh mud is art.

I blow out little dew patches from the screen, creating images that only I can understand.

I make a puppy, a flower….a pirate.

I want to go outside.

I am positive that I will die if I don’t get in the mud soon….

My forehead lightly taps against the screen, bumping the door open with small nods, the door slaps back and forth.

“Mom, I’m bored…..” says the dying child.

“You’ll live” she laughs.

Mom gives me hope….

I wonder if the rain will ever stop.

I awoke during the night when the first drops began to fall, tapping the tin roof in a cadence of lullaby.

The ceiling fan spins me around and around…

It’s fun to get dizzy.

Sleep is deepest when the rain is softest, hushing me back into my dream.

I like to dream.

I can fly when I dream.

You can’t die from boredom in a dream, lot’s of flying, running and monsters.

I saw a drop of sunlight fall on a puddle, spinning like a falling leaf.

Have you ever noticed that a sunbeam makes the rain smell different?

The lost little sun dot was not sad that it had fallen from the sky.

It bounced across my yard, twirling and hiding, skipping across the soggy pine needles.

I saw a robin land next to the baby sunbeam and study it carefully, its noble head cocking now and then.

“Did you fall?” asked Mr. Robin, concerned.

“Noo…” said the glowing little sun drop    “I just like playing in the rain”

“I will sing for you” said Mr. Robin flapping and drying his wings, his bright orange chest puffing out.

The robin sang a beautiful song as the baby sun drop spun and twirled.

I wanna play too….

I am sure death is near.

I opened up the door quietly so I wouldn’t interrupt them and sat on the top step, watching the pair of friends enjoy each other.

“You stay out of that mud now, you hear?”

“I’m just sitting down, Mom!”

“I know what you’re up to, young man!”

“I ain’t doin’ nothing” I mumble.

I am devious, but my mom has experience.

I notice that even the rain has stopped now to watch and listen to the baby sun-drop and Mr. Robin.

I felt warmth brush across my cheek and saw the clouds step back and let the bright sun see the pair of puddle dancers.

Center stage….

“Oh how he dances….this child of mine” says the sun proudly.

Dance baby sun-drop, but stay out of my mud.

The sun always messes up my mud.

Against my better judgment, I have jumped from the porch.

Splash! Splat!

I look down at the mud squeezing between my toes.

Mud is awesome!

The baby sun-drop races back and forth across my toes, it kinda tickles.

I can hear the child of the sun giggle as he gooses my piggies.

The screen door opens behind me.

“Get outta that dang mud!” Mom says

I cannot move…

I am a statue.

I am a tree.

I am in quick sand.

I am the first pirate on this foreign shore….

New mud and imagination creates worlds.

I will not die from boredom after-all.

Not today….

 

 

The rain has saved my life.

Mom has other plans….

It’s worth it.