Waitin' for the Rains

Waitin’ for the Rains

Light filtered through the spaces between the trees, as dawn broke within the land, catching dust within its honey-tinged glow. Sleepy chirps and the soft rustling of feathers were heard around the bush lands, all were awake but not fully aware of the morning's coming. Yet beauty alone could not hide the tell-tale cracks of the ground beneath, the sparseness of the wild grass and the bare space below the boughs, where a rusted and broken spade rested amidst shallow furrows. In the shade of the overhanging branches a small, dilapidated cottage stood on weakening foundations. From within its confines came a shattering noise that broke through the stillness of the morning.

"Jack, what are we doing here? Why did you bring us here? There is nothing here for us!" A woman's frustrated voice accompanied the soft chimes of fractured pottery as it fell on the floor.  "We've been here for too long, so long...why do you insist that our future is here?" There was a muted scrape of shoes against the ground before the woman stormed out of the house, leaving the confused cries of a young child in her wake.

"Martha, wait! Please wait." A man emerged from the door way, his tone pained and pleading. This was obviously not the first time they had fought, nor the first time he had replied in this way.

"Wait for what, Jack? For something good to finally happen in this godforsaken land? For money to come pouring from the sky? I've been waiting too long!" She yelled at him, her face desperate and filled with untold sorrow. "We came here because of you, Jack. You and that wretched dream of yours.”

“I didn’t force you to come here Martha. I’m not the one who made you leave the city. We came here for a different life, for a simple life…but now, all your wantin’ is that same old life again.” Exasperated, he trudged back towards the cottage, the child’s whining finally attracting his attention. “Just wait for the rains, Martha” He said despondently, “Those rains will be comin’ soon…and then you'll see.”

She turned her back towards him, cutting off the conversation and cutting herself away from that life. She seemed to believe that by not looking at what was reality, she would escape to what used to be. Her dreams were plagued by the hustle and bustle of the city, her waking hours haunted by an intangible longing and a constant disappointment of what she had become. You are useless here, you know? Her thoughts revolved around this fact. Jack could live without you…It was useless to argue with what was part of her person. You could leave here, you know? But deep inside she knew she couldn’t, could she?…for that would mean leaving the boy, it would mean abandoning her son.

From within the sun-lit cottage, all noise ceased except for the soft, gentle whispers of sweet nothings. The reassuring murmurs of a parent calming their child. Uneven steps slapped against the hardened surface as a boy, no more than five years of age, grasped the splintered door frames in an attempt to steady himself. "Mama!" He gurgled happily, childish naivety and innocence making him oblivious to the straining tensions within his fragile family.

She smiled faintly, "Good morning, Charlie."A motherly facade hiding the inner turmoil that she was experiencing within
.
The small boy pulled a faded, floppy hat from behind his back, "Tah dah!" He giggled excitedly , "We goin' walking Mummy."

"Mmhm..." She replied absent-mindedly.

"Goin' to check those fences so we'll be leavin' you awhile. " Jack said gruffly, searching her face for a sign of her intentions. "We'll be comin' back in the evenin' and you'll be here...won't you?" The question hung in the air.

"I'll be there. I'll be waiting." She answered unwaveringly but in the folds of her skirt something rustled quietly, fingers intertwined and twisted around a small slip of paper...

A train rattled and jolted itself down a dusty wooden track, windows  sprayed red by the dirt of the barren outback plains. In the far back of the old carriage a person sat; picking aimlessly at the peeling paint that outlined the seats.  In her lap a crinkled piece of paper rested, downcast eyes flicked between it and the paint. "Ticket please," someone said. She handed the paper up and it was returned to her lap with one minor alteration - there was now a hole in its right corner. In the distance, a rumbling was heard. The woman looked up to see a darkening cloud charging over the horizon. In the time it took her to be aware of the cloud, one tiny droplet of water slid its way down the red-tinged windows, tracing a clear path down the window's length.  Then the heaven's opened, the drumming of the rain washing all thoughts away except for one -  this was the first rain in three years.

In a distant outback cattle station, a boy and his father had returned. "Where's Mummy, Da?" The boy inquired puzzled, as the first drops of water began to make their entrance.

"She's gone to make the rain, kiddo." The man said with false enthusiasm. "She'll be back when it stops, just you wait." And as the rain poured down on the parched land, a lone man stood beholding its might. "I told you the rains were comin," he whispered softly. "I told you to wait..." He said forlornly to someone who was by now, too far away to hear him.