night rain

I woke up to the rain pounding down the windows. My eyes popped open and I lay there, thinking. A little body twitched in sleep beside me, with a slight shiver. I pulled up the blankets that I knew she would kick off again and tried to close my eyes again, to no avail. The rain sounded like a nightmare inside my head. I don't hate the rain and I am very grateful for it- at least today. At least right now.
But, as nightmares do, this one woke me up and kept me there. I'm not ready for this day to begin. I've a long history of waking in the early morning hours, and happily doing so. But this morning is too early...and a long day lies ahead. Nothing of particular circumstance, but long even if.
Tiptoe from the room, move the brick holding the door open so that it eases quietly shut. Turn the switch on the computer as I walk silently into the kitchen. Without thinking about it, open the freezer and put frozen bread on the skillet to toast. Modern day toaster. We've never graduated to the future with that one, and are very happy with our skillet toast. Open the fridge. Find that I polished off the mixed berry jam yesterday morning. Open the peanut butter and scoop out a glob. Spread it on the bread, carefully. Millet bread has the tendency to crumble with any stiff topping. Hesitate over the honey option, and decide it's a good one.
Bring my toast into the living room and sit quietly down at the computer screen. Sooo close to my sleeping beauties I have to be very quiet with my movements. Check mail and read the blogs I usually do. Check Facebook and make sure the world didn't end in the few hours I slept.
And as usual, it didn't.
Think about the days, the nights, the family that runs it all. My daughters who's very breath sometimes melts my heart. Think about my own parents who's lives suddenly are fragile. Those people who growing up seemed the least fragile. Think about my brothers and sisters, their lives, events and joy.
The rain. My gardens. My dear friends who's livelihood depends on the bounty of soil.

Ah, another day. Another June. Another night, another time woken up by the rain before the day comes.