Precipitation has been so fleeting lately. I don’t know about you, but my conspiracy theory is that rain is intentionally avoiding my yard. The skies go all dark and cloudy and rumbly, like, HERE WE GO! And then, nothing.
After plenty of false starts, a drenching dose of summer rain actually blessed Tampa Bay this weekend. Instantly, I became:
Twila, a chic yet sullen 1930s woman who recently lost her husband to consumption. She reluctantly boards a train bound for upstate New York to live with her wealthy, emotionally absent uncle. During a thunderstorm, the lights flicker to blackness in the dining car before coming back on. Twila’s luggage, which contains a rare filigree and pearl pendant passed down for generations, is missing. Twila must solve the crime — and find a second chance at love — before the train docks at Buffalo Central Terminal.
Monique, a former hippie and street artist who has accepted a stable job teaching high school art in 1997. She calls in sick in silent protest over the school district’s new policy prohibiting the study of nude sculpture. As the rain pounds against Monique’s roof, she clutches a cup of Rooibos tea and wonders, “When did I stop answering to myself?” For the first time in 10 years, she takes off her antique spoon bracelet, rolls up her sleeves and grabs a paintbrush. The thunder rumbles overhead and in her heart.
Sara Beth, a 15-year-old, straight-A student who's never taken a chance on anything. When the school’s outdoor semi-formal, A Night Under The Stars, falls apart on account of weather, Sara Beth is distraught. She’s reading her geometry textbook when she hears a pebble fly against the window. It’s Joel, the neighbor boy. He’s sitting atop her childhood slide in the pouring rain, grinning. Sara Beth rolls her eyes, but he doesn’t budge. She steps onto the porch and yells, “ARE YOU CRAZY?” Joel slides down and says, “Yeah. Crazy for you.” They dance in the rain.
You know, stuff like that!
