When It's Fallen

It’s late in the afternoon and I’m sitting beneath the fig bush in the backyard. With every sand gnats in a four county area buzzing around my head. Mr. Brown cut the grass a few days ago, but I haven’t been able to go outside to enjoy it due to the humidity and my ever present gut issues. But after a few days of toilet hugging and sleeping in a pools of sweat, it’s looking like it might rain. Which means for a few moments they’ll be a little shade and lots of wind blowing.
 
Fortunately this has been one of my wife’s good weeks. She’s definitely picked up where I have left off by washing clothes, cooking meals, and cleaning house. All while I’ve been knotted up in the bed with my own brand of pain. I’m hoping this most recent attack will leave by the weekend, but it’s the last of the month so it really don’t matter anyway. Still even in my moment of discomfort there’s a nice steady wind blowing. While down the highway I can see my neighbors heading home to enjoy the three day holiday.
 
I guess more than anything this is an observation of how it is in the rural south. With not much going on and other than a lot of folks leaving their big town jobs in Vidalia and Dublin for their little pieces of home here in Wheeler County. I no longer count myself amongst them now. I’m just one of the many broken Americans that give the best parts of themselves to crave out a little bit of the dream. But I guess I flew too close to the sun and my wings just melted away. I guess this is a little too mellow dramatic for the enlightened folk out there. But it’s not far off from the anger common folk often feel. Where the promises of relief blow in on the wind. Only to take out what little of the dream is left. But I must admit the rain sure smells sweet when it’s fallen.