Travelgal on the move

#Bloganuary challenge

She was the first to hear it. Much lighter than the scrape of claws or clumsy attempts at running across the corrugated iron roof. It was a smattering of pencil point taps.

She lay on her back, now alert to the increasing noise on the tin roof and the murmurs of the household awakening. They were all talking at once, getting louder and now laughing.

The family of four emerged into the hall of the old homestead and crept towards the front door. Her husband shuffling behind her and the girls. They opened the door as the noise turned into a roar- a sound that the eight year old twins had never heard. Rain.

Wind swept in too and the combined force of this wet phenomenon gave her body a glorious electric-like shock. Rain. This was the dramatic end to nine years of heartbreaking drought. Rain. It thundered down and the girls squealed with a mixture of delight and terror. Rain.

All she could think about in that moment was that she had used her ancient gum boots as pot plants for the succulents. Her husband put his hand on her shoulders and said: “Well, I’ll be buggered.”