And When There’s Nothing Left, We’ll Photograph the Rain Part X
A tear fell from her right eye as I held her in the rain. I read somewhere that if it falls from the right eye, it’s a sign of happiness, but it was quickly lost with the drops falling from the sky, and I acted like I didn’t notice. It rained just long enough, just hard enough to soak us through to the bone. What kind of tears fell from the sky today? Did God cry for our sadness, or for our joy?
We fell asleep in the floorboards still talking about everything and nothing as the traffic and rain put on a show for us. I wonder often if she remembers that night. When it rains in my life, I think back to what we made of the rain. What we made out of nothing. My parents taught me to appreciate the good things, but she taught me how to appreciate even the bad things.
So while I’m searching and finding what little I can here and losing everything there, I’ll find solace in the words she whispered, as if to tell me I can always find her here on a rainy day. “When there’s nothing left, we’ll photograph the rain.”
By Forrest Lane