Photo Credit: Soumi Haldar

It had been raining all throughout that week. The sound of the rain on the roof and the bells of the wind chime on the porch became a constant. As did wet and slippery roads, greener views and the vibrant smell of the moist earth. The rain kept us indoors. The after school classes were randomly called off due to the rain. The children happy to have some time of their own.
The daughter would typically perch herself on the couch, feet resting on the arm rest and immerse herself in a book. The little guy made and sailed boats, made his own song on the piano and did his crossword puzzles. Somewhere late in the afternoon, it became customary to pull out the long forgotten board games and have a game over a cup of piping hot chocolate. Some afternoon, we baked cakes from scratch. One afternoon we had a little spelling bee of our own and the winner got an extra cup of hot chocolate.
There was no running from basket ball class to the art class on Monday. No drop off for tennis and piano on Tuesday. No rush on Wednesday for the swimming and viola classes which  happened at two different ends of the city. There was still a big essay to be written on Thursday but for some reason the essay did not seem daunting that week. Homework was not being completed by 10 in the night. Dinner was more relaxed and not just a one pot meal put together in fifteen minutes. We talked a lot and laughed even more.
It was my time with my children after what seemed a very long time. They seemed to be enjoying it too. And just when we were getting addicted to this schedule. The rain stopped. Just like that. Suddenly. Abruptly.
Made us all sad. But things had to keep moving on.
Friday afternoon as I sat down with a cup of Starbucks and watched the basket ball practice, my phone rang. It was a dear friend calling from a distant city. She was calling to see how we had survived amidst the torrential rains. I shared with her how it had all gone by. How that one week of rain had made me realize that all throughout our life as a parent there is always a mad rush. Baby and toddler milestones at first, pre-school, developmental and social aspects thereafter, then you hop on from one bus to another elementary, middle and high and top this all with the soccer, piano, basket ball, guitar, art classes and et all. And then, before you even know the birds are ready to fly out of the nest. We needed to take pauses.
I could hear silence on the other end.  A mother of two herself she knew the whole deal. All she said was “I wish it rained more often.”
I wish too.

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