Nothing Will Change

 Response to Prompt #35 "Right as Rain"

Nothing Will Change

It was part of the cycle. Part of what I do – be present in all kinds of situations.  Experience all kinds of emotions. I partake in an unusual way, as sometimes I am intrusive and reviled, but occasionally welcomed.  I never know.

I am rain.  I am river. I am evaporation.  I am cloud.  Sometimes I am snow.

I’ve been around for much longer than I can remember. Yet somehow, there is a day that seems to stand out above all. It was a day I came to a small town during a ceremony. The townspeople had gathered to see some of their sons off to war. The band was playing, flags were waving, families were hugging, and children cheered the soldiers on.

One couple was off to the side, far from the crowd, kissing madly. Then I heard the young soldier say, “Dance with me,” as he took his wife’s hand and led to her a place on the platform. There, in front of the town, they danced their hearts out, as if they were the only two people on earth. As I rained on them, they seemed more and more full of joy. It was unusual in this type of circumstance. Yet, their love was palatable. I could feel it as I struck their skin.

It was love like I’d never seen before, and don’t think I’ve ever seen since.

As they danced, I heard the whispered promises he gave her: 

“Love is strange.  But ours is forever.”

“Nothing will change.”

“I will return.”

But the last was a lie he didn’t mean to tell.

They danced until they were soaked, he in his uniform, she in her long dark dress and chunky shoes. They danced until that train whistle blew demanding they separate.

“Nothing will change,” he promised again, his blue eyes shining.  He waved goodbye to her from the train window. She was nothing but smiles. She believed him.

It was to be a year.  But the years passed, and he did not return. 

He did not return when the other town’s sons came home. 

He did not return when the Vietnam conflict came to a close.

What happened to him was never determined. He was another MIA.  As an airman, he was most likely shot down and never recovered.

I cycled around, watching this young woman through the years. She aged. She lived alone, never marrying again.  She was waiting…always.

She did not receive a survivor’s gratuity, since his whereabouts were never confirmed. She never moved from their home.  I heard her tell her friends she needs to be where he can find her. She told them she couldn’t see the rain, hear the thunder, or the whistle of the train without feeling him close to her.  It was a constant reminder, both painful and comforting.

She cries like the rain, still, when I come around.  Sometimes she dances around her screened in porch, holding her hands to her heart, smiling joyfully like that summer day. Sometimes she doesn’t come outside to see me, and I cannot blame her. 

It seems evident after these decades that she knows he isn’t going to return. Yet she lives every day like he might.

He promised her nothing would change. And it hasn’t really.

She has done her best to make that promise come true.

#

Narrative derived from this music video: