stories

>   >   >

Home  |   Calendar of Classes  |  About Us  |  More Stories  |  A Time to Mourn

(Continued from previous page)

roads between pasture and cornfields where ruts had dried after spring rains.  There were gates to open and close.  As we came over the crest of one hill and

continued down the slope of the next, the distance between us and home shortened.  We bumped steadily along - not talking much - our tired bodies absorbing the shock.

By now the sun had receded behind the gathering clouds.  Overhead the vast expanse of sky was darker.  We saw the sheet lightning in the west and heard the thunder rumbling in the distance. The new chill in the air brought the smell of rain.  The horses quickened their pace as John allowed more slack in the reins.  The rhythm of hooves beating on earth blended with creaking sounds of the moving wagon.  We knew the race was on to reach shelter before the brewing storm hit.

Now we could see our house on the hill a mile or so ahead of us.  My five year old brother spoke, "I wish we was home."  "We will be soon," Ma replied calmly, but there was a note of anxiety in her voice.  I knew Ma was praying.

The team needed no coaxing and John let them break into a slow gallop.  We huddled together as the dome of threatening clouds above seemed closer - closing in.  The wind ceased.  An ominous presence filled the air.  Big raindrops began pelting.  It was cold.

Suddenly we sensed the sizzle of electricity as lightning crackled followed by thunder clapping so close we all ducked instinctively. A new surge of wind rushed the torrents of rain that burst from the sky.  Within seconds we were drenched.

The frightened horses bolted into a full gallop.  "WHOA! WHOA! WHOA NOW!" Above the eruption of storm John shouted to control the team as he braced himself to tug tightly on the long lines until he slowed the horses and wagon to a halt.  While John struggled to unhitch the prancing horses, we all scrambled to the ground and leaned closely to the side of the wagon to seek protection from the buffeting wind and rain.  Then the vibration of hooves pounding against earth faded into the weather as the harnessed team disappeared toward home.  Hurriedly, John joined us as we bent to huddle closer.  Lightning split the sky and the thunder reverberated louder and nearer in the violence of storm. Clinging together against the grain wagon, we waited out the repeated cycles of lightning and thunder that blasted through the steady downpour.  In time the storm began to subside.  Wind and rain slowed.

Dripping and chilled we took off our shoes and socks and turned homeward.  Wet clothes pasted to skin, hair clinging to cheeks, we trudged barefoot through mud and splashed through puddles.  Occasionally one would stop to wait for another.  As we ran and walked, the rain receded to a sprinkle.  Thunder rumbled, echoed - then faded away.  By the time we crossed the main highway that slices through our farmland a fourth mile from home, the dark clouds had moved over us and on to the northeast.

Now on home territory, we could see the harnessed horses standing at the barn with heads reaching over the corral gate.  As the sun low in the west peeled from behind a cloud, a rainbow arched above the eastern horizon.  Calmness had returned to our freshly washed world and we were home.