The rain fell in sheets as was its manner in the green isle.
The heavy clouds pressing themselves close to the land, speeding the waters' fall to the earth with their nearness.
The storm had rolled in during the night and commenced its
deluge.
It was a day for big coats, warm hats or hoods, and a sturdy
umbrella.
He enjoyed the rain.
As he donned his heavy long coat and turned the collar up
around his thick neck he smiled ,remembering a line from a movie. The character's mother had told her that “god
was in the rain”.
This idea always tickled him, because on one level the mother
was correct in that some people view the elements as a source of worship, but
the smile always got that little bit wider when he stepped outside and felt the
first drops hit his face.
Opening the broad golf umbrella, he set off down the road in
his usual rolling gait, his trim frame leaning slightly forward into the rain.
He’d had no need for big work of late, so a big appetite and big shape was not
required.
The smile slipped to a thoughtful frown as he passed the
election posters. Politicians. The elected leaders set to govern in the interests of the
people.
That same movie provided a new line from his memory, one
which he could not help but feel saddened by : "People should not fear their government, governments should
fear their people."
These elected officials seem most concerned with their
status and personal benefits, with their back talk and 'policy' discussion.
Where was the leadership?
Where the sacrifice to do what was best for the people?
The People, so caring and understanding and welcoming as a
nation, but are they too understanding? Where is the anger and fight?
He has seen a lot of change in his time upon this island,
and looked forward to a lot more.
It was needed.
His eyes moved back to the water falling abundantly from the
sky. Water, given freely by the process of the world’s cycles.
They expected the people to pay for that which falls freely
from the sky? Sure, there are processes that are important to manage disease
and health to make it consumable for people these days.
All of that science must have worked, as humans these days
lived a lot longer, or should he say, their life extended a lot longer than some
he could recall.
The sadness began to settle upon him; so many gone who never
had as many years as people these days. So many, who sang and fought ,who loved
and lost.
So many whose greatness echoed even onto this very day.
They may have had shorter lives back then, but they
definitely lived them to the full.
In an effort to wash away the sadness, he stopped in the street,
and moving the umbrella aside he tilted his head back and set his face to the
rain’s fall.
The water was cold as it splashed on his skin. In seconds
the rain had soaked his broad features and was running in little rivulets
through the care worn lines of his forehead, and those around his eyes.
If there had been tears shed then they would fall with the rest of the water to wet the earth.
Heaving a sigh he shook himself, and caused a cascade of water
to shift off of him and hammer into the ground.
Looking down he saw the waters flow to the side of the
concrete pathway and into the drains and away.
Flowing, always flowing.
His face softened and a small smile returned as the umbrella
once again covered him from the falling water.
There will always be change, it cannot be stopped.
Like the waters which
flow it will always find a way. There will be those that try fighting it but eventually
they will be worn down or worked around.
Change is a power that all people possess. From the small to
the large, the change starts with each person, and it starts with a choice.
He recalled the news of communities coming together. Neighbour standing with neighbour in peaceful opposition to the government
forcing its agenda against the will of the people.
His smile became that bit bigger as he considered the wider
world impact his little island had when its people raised their voice and
collectively declared that the union of two people, one to the other, should
not be restricted based on their gender.
Change, a power every person possesses, and it starts with a
choice.
Putting one foot in
front of the other, he moved on through the grey wet gloom until he reached his
destination.
The pub was warm and dry, a fire crackled merrily over in
the hearth. A few patrons sat about the space chatting and enjoying
companionship.
Tapping off his umbrella he placed in the stand. Shirking
off his big coat he hung it by the door and strolled up to his stool at the
bar.
Shaking out his paper he let his mind drift as his eyes
moved, waiting for the barman to finish serving the woman down the way.
“What’ll it be Big D?”
“Pint of the usual, please Derek. Got any tips on the horses
today?”
“No way D. I lost more than enough on that last run
yesterday. I wouldn’t want to give you my bad luck.”
As the barman moved away to pull the pint, the woman he had
just served slipped in to the seat beside him.
“Warmaiden in the fourth might suit. I hear she is feisty and likes to bite, but they say she is one amazing ride, if you like to gamble.”
His eyes left the paper and roamed up her small frame to a
face of fine sharp features and smiling pink lips.
It was always her eyes though. Every time, they seemed to
stop his heart and steal his breath. Those eyes roamed about his shape in
return, from his broad shoulders to his slim waist.
“If it’s not too improper to ask, I’m curious, why did he
call you 'Big' D?”
The Dagda’s eyes took on a mischievous twinkle as his dimples
came out to match his broad smile.
“Well….”
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