Rain, Rain, Please Go Away

The writing/art studio in our house is a bonus room above the garage with a window on the far end overlooking the driveway and street. It provides a great vantage point for anyone who wants to watch the comings and goings of the neighborhood. Not that I do that, mind you, but it does come in handy for a needed break or if I get stuck for an idea to write about. But today I’m not stuck. As I look out the window at our waterlogged grass and the lake now forming where our flower beds once were, I know what to write about. Can you guess?

Yep, it is the time to start building that ark you always wanted. After seven days of nonstop rain, another great flood is only thirty-three days away. But there is something more immediate that needs attention and, if not addressed quickly, will create a disaster perhaps almost as big as the great flood. What do you do with a house full of kids when it has rained for seven days, school has been out for the last two weeks, and they are already getting bored and on each other’s nerves? Our answer was logical and would save our house from being destroyed any further.

Take a Florida vacation.

After all, it never rains in Florida. That’s why they call it the Sunshine State. We rented a small house just 300 feet down the street from the beach and started packing. If you were looking for a way to stop the kids from fighting and get them off their phones, just get out the suitcases and ask them if they would mind helping you pack for the surprise Florida vacation. And then when they ask you if they are coming, just for fun, you could say no. Not that anyone around here did that, but seeing their reaction sure was funny.

Two hours later we were in the car driving to our sunny beach vacation – in the pouring rain. As advertised, when we crossed the Florida state line, the rain stopped, the clouds broke open, and the sun started to shine once more. Our car would have erupted with cheering from our two granddaughters, but they were in the other car. Their mom and her oldest daughter were also tired of all the rain and decided to join us on our sunny Florida beach vacation. 

Not so sunny after all.

An hour before we reached our destination, it started to rain again. No, I misspoke. It started to pour. No, I misspoke again. It rained so hard we had to pull over to the side of the road and wait the monsoon out. It continued to rain all the way until we reached the house only 300 feet down the street from the beach. Just as advertised, you could sit on the front porch and see the ocean. We could have, if it hadn’t been for the sheets of rain falling between us and the beach. You couldn’t see more than 10 feet out from the porch.

With only a couple hours left before dinner time, we decided it was best to unpack, find a place to eat, and call it a day. We knew that the rain would stop at some point during the night, and we would have a bright sunny day full of sand surf and fun tomorrow. After all, it was Florida, the Sunshine State.

Nope.

The storm continued all night, and in the morning, we woke up to heavy rain still falling and flash flood warnings issued. Finally, around 11:00am it stopped raining, and the sun peeking out from behind the dark clouds gave us all so much hope that we changed in the bathing suits, put on ample amount of sunblock, gathered up the beach toys, wake boards and cooler full of drinks and snacks, and started to take the easy 300-foot walk from our rented house to the beach.

Not so easy. 

The downpour the night before and that morning had turned the beach access point at end of our street into a lake over thirty-feet across and over two-feet deep. The Girly Girls used their wake boards to skim across, and we grownups trudged through, holding up all our beach provisions to keep them dry. Finally, after reaching the perfect sandy spot, setting up the shade tent, five chairs, umbrella, and making sure everyone was completely covered in sunblock, it was time to finally stick toes in sand, relax and start our sunny beach vacation. After all, it couldn’t possibly rain at the beach. Florida is the Sunshine State. 

Rain, rain, go away.

The dark clouds above unzipped, sending a torrent of very cold, fat raindrops down upon us, a huge gust of wind sent our umbrella sailing down the beach, and our perfect beach set up with five large dry towels got totally soaked. Fortunately for us, the rain was short lived, and for the rest of the day, the Sunshine State did live up to its name. 

For the next three days the rain held off, the lake at the end of our street finally drained, and everybody had one of the best beach vacations ever. But I have a suggestion to Florida for a more accurate state motto. Change it from the Sunshine State to the Sunburn State. Yes, Dear Reader, all who went on our Florida vacation came back with fond memories of our time at the beach – and came back with sunburns. We also came back to something else.

Rain.