After a few weeks with little more than a sprinkle or two, it rained last night. It was a sneaky kind of rain. I guess that makes it typically Salvadoran. It was a beautiful day with plenty of sunshine until about 3:30 p.m. when it began to sprinkle. Margarita and I were at the church having brought the kids to CDI for the first time in what seemed like a month. There’s always some reason to cancel classes. Margarita had some clothes on the line and you can’t depend on María to respond to changes in weather. By the time we walked the three blocks to the house, it had stopped. Eventually, the clouds blew over and the rest of the afternoon was cool and delightful.
After supper I relaxed on my recliner in front of the TV to enjoy Tuesday night marathon with “Law and Order SVU”. The first three hours were reruns of reruns and I ended up watching El Salvador beat Surinam at soccer. I also caught a bit of the news. All was quiet outside.
Ten o’clock found me climbing into bed while Margarita checked on the kids in their quarters. I had just found my comfortable spot and was half-way to dreamland when I felt something on my cheek. I brushed it off. This time it was not a scorpion. A moment later I felt a drop on my forehead followed by the sound of something hitting my pillow. If I wasn’t totally aware of what was happening by then, the rumble of thunder and staccato of rain on the tiled roof snapped me to awakedness. I jumped out of bed and hit the light switch. The first thing I saw on the bed was a smattering of small pieces of black plastic that had formerly kept the rain from sprinkling us through the tiles. There were a couple of water stains on the pillow as well. I paused briefly to assess the situation to determine if moving the bed would be the proper action. I called for Margarita and found she had been locked out of our section of the house when the wind slammed the kitchen-to-patio door shut. It reminded me of the day of the hail storm. I let her in and came back to our bedroom. Meanwhile, she checked the kitchen and living rom furniture for wetness. No water. Just plastic. Then the wind and rain subsided and it was just gently coming down but not in. I cleaned up the plastic shreds on the bed and crawled back to my happy place. Margarita did a second sweep of the house and assured me we were OK.
I slept well. The night before had been one of almost constant coughing. This time it was a duet with my chronically coughing wife. In the morning I slept late. I anticipated I’d have enough quiet to just lie in bed until I felt like getting up. That’s what retirement is about. The plan was for Margarita and Juan to go to Santa Ana about a job for the young man at Siman, the Nordstrom of Central America. The kids would be in school. María would be hibernating in her cave and peace would be mine.
But when I crawled out to the patio, Margarita was still in her nightgown, Juan was washing his face, the little guys were eating their corn flakes, and I was puzzled. I learned the kids had no classes and Juan and Margarita were not in a rush.
It was overcast but dry. I lost any interest in returning to bed. I showered and decided that my plans to make myself a special breakfast would have to be shelved for another time. It was Honey Nut Cheerios and orange juice. But I was happy that the night had gone well and there was just a lot of sweeping to be done. No problem. I’m getting used to the fact that IT’S DIFFERENT HERE.