Regardless of the Weather

 

I tell everyone who asks what is the best way to improve your writing, I always suggest joining a writing group. Whether you are a new writer or a published author, a good writing group will provide feedback on your work and prompts that will push your writing to places you've never been.

I currently belong to the Pensters Writing Group in Fairhope, Alabama. The group has been around for 60 years and have nurtured and inspired many writers who became published authors. The one thing I love about the Pensters, are their writing prompts that challenge us to stretch our imaginations, write outside our comfort zone, and experiment with writing while honing our craft. 

Several months ago, the Pensters Writing Group gave us the prompt, "Regardless of the Weather." It challenged me to break out of my usual genres – humorous short stories and nonfiction history - and write something with feeling, something I didn't think I had in me. This is that story:

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Regardless of the Weather

Regardless of the weather, love was blooming.

 
Despite a steady rainfall that would have dampened the spirits of most people and ruined the day, we relished in it, dancing in the shower, swirling beneath the amusement park’s carnival lights, their brilliant colors shimmering off the puddles and in her dark brown eyes as we spun around to the music in our minds. Raindrops flew from her long hair while people huddling for cover watched our performance thinking we were both quite mad.

 
We ducked into an arcade booth where I won two huge stuffed animals that were almost as tall as she was. For some unknown reason, we named them “Ferdinand” and “Freddie” before putting them up for “adoption” and handed them to two youngsters standing nearby with their families.

When the rain let up, we hopped onto the park’s giant Ferris Wheel where we proved that singer Freddie Cannon was right when he sang, “You’ll never know how good a kiss could feel ‘til you stop at the top of a Ferris Wheel.”

 
Regardless of the weather, that love continued to grow.

We both disliked football, but one frosty Saturday afternoon we trekked to our high school football field and watched our team play. Despite the howling wind and the thick snowflakes falling from the sky, we brushed off the icy aluminum stadium seats and huddled together underneath a tartan stadium blanket, clinging to each other for warmth. We had no idea who won the game. It didn’t matter.

Regardless of the weather, time marches on.

 
We had come to the proverbial fork in the road for a romance we thought would never die as we left the cozy confines of high school and became adults, forced into the harsh, cruel world. In a cool spring rain, salty tears mixed with the rain drops. We said our goodbyes, not knowing this would be the last time we would see each other.

Decades later, as I sat thumbing through the pages of my old yearbook, I came to her picture and the full page note she wrote to me that last day. My gaze turns to watch the heavy rain falling outside my window, and my mind wanders back to those happy, innocent times, wondering where she is, what she is doing now, and if she is happy. I wonder if she ever thinks of me as I do her.