Through the Window- Part 3

She is reading another book for leisure that she got at the rather small public library with a rather small collection of books as her summer reading assignment lies on her bedroom floor. She likes this book and usually does when she likes the title. The more and more she likes her current reading material, the more surprised she is that she didn’t write a book such as that. Drops of rain subtly tap on her window as if someone has come for a visit. In the back of her mind, she is reminded of every window-tapping incident and memory and what came of them. She chooses to focus on the rain and pushes the thoughts away. Some people she knew didn’t like the rain. It made some of them sad. Most took cover whenever innocent little drops fell from the sky. She, however, loved the rain. It was a way for Mother Nature to express herself. She loved playing in the rain as well. She’d go outside and sit in it’s beauty, but preferred the safety of her room and the lack of questioning she would undertake if she walked out the front door at this time of night. Even if she merely spoke the simple truth of wanting to sit in the rain, she would be asked why, and no matter what explanation she would give, her answer would not be understood. She knew this from experience. She had been laying on the incline of the driveway, looking at the spectacular arrangement of stars in the night sky and was told to come inside for absolutely no good reason at all. She assumed that her reasoning for lying there was something that no one could fathom because no one had bothered to even ask. Oh my god. She is doing something different that is so simple and innocent. It can’t continue. God forbid she experience sweet solitude from simplicity. She could slip out the back door to visit the rain, but after not coming back to her room for a while, she would probably have to endure the line of questioning that she wanted to avoid. She did not feel like explaining things that could not be understood by anyone else in the household. So, to spare her parents from confusing concepts, herself from wasting valuable words, everyone from wasting time, she decided to turn out the light, push the beach towel hanging over the window aside and pulled the cord, causing the blinds to rise. She laid on her stomach with a pillow under her arms on the bad right next the window staring at everything within her eyesight that the rain seemed to be affecting. It wasn’t odd for her to be gazing at nature’s beauty and glory through the window. Thoughts began to wander aimlessly. Tomorrow’s agenda, the upcoming weekend trip to another one of America’s cities that seemed to be only known with its own boundaries, the phone calls received that revealed that actually thought her worthy of their thinking (this in itself was a blessing, the fact that they called was a super-bonus), the lack of phone calls (from the people, or person, rather, that she thought cared the most and could not live without hearing her voice everyday)- these were the thoughts for the first minute or so. She got so caught up in her wild thinking process that she had not even realized it had stopped raining. She lets the blinds down and the towel fall back into place. She turns the lamp on next to her bedside table, actually behind it, but nonetheless close enough. She also plugs in her fiber optic butterfly in and flips the switch to on, debating whether or not to turn on the glitter lamp, but decides against it, not wanting to leave the warmth and comfort that has finally been acquired from her full-size bed. She suddenly remembers that she has not made the bed since he laid in it. Oh great. Their unofficial song comes on the radio as the thought crosses her mind. She remembers sitting next to him asking if he’s like another drink. She had even gotten him a straw striped in his favorite color. She didn’t know why and was being sarcastic when she asked if he wanted one, but gotten one anyway. So many memories of him going through her head. Why does she love him so much? She has never had an answer for that question at any point in time. She stares at different things in her room throughout this specific thought process. Her eyelids finally start to sag over her currently hazel-blue eyes, as they had a tendency to change. She turns all the lights out, leaving the radio on, like always and tries to let sleep come, still thinking of him.