With school out, the household has changed, and I have two people rattling around while I work at home. They are middle schoolers, so mornings tend to be quiet, but by lunch the thumping begins.
I am not a person who needs noise. If there is no stereo or TV playing, that is fine with me most days. On occasion I like some background sound, and then Brian Setzer or a cooking show come to the rescue.
Not the Fuse channel, my son’s favorite. Not my daughter’s preference, any number of movies she’s seen fewer than a dozen times, with “The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants” high on the list.
The last couple of days, though, she’s been excited by that nasty buzzing sound that signals a weather alert. She tries to flip over to see the details, but they run on shopping channels, which are blocked at our house. She has an aversion to the Weather Channel, probably because of her father’s great fondness for it. (He is one of those people who knows the anchors’ names.)
Soon enough, though, the clouds outside tell the story. Then she runs outside. When the clouds open, she runs back inside, begging me to come out and dance in the rain with her.
Some days I do. Some days I beg off, standing on the porch and watching instead.
The question is not why we dance in the rain sometimes. It’s why we don’t do it more often.
This post originally appeared on ourMidland.com, the online home of the Midland (MI) Daily News. Republished with permission.