RAIN, RAIN, GO AWAY!

RAIN RAIN GO AWAY…

Once upon a time, so many years ago you couldn’t  count them,  in a nondescript land so far away from you (or anyone you know) that you couldn’t begin to count the miles, in a country that wasn’t  enough of a country to deserve a name on a map, there lived a small nondescript child whose  name was  Eon. Eon was no taller than a small bookshelf. He was  pale with shoe button eyes, a nose, hands and feet that were, well, small. When he stood in the shadows, Eon seemed invisible. Eon was not just nondescript, he was unhappy. Unhappy all over. Not just because he was small all over, not just because he was named Eon, not just because he lived in a nondescript country that no one ever chose to visit.  Eon was unhappy because in this nondescript land with no name, it rained all the time! Every day was a rainy day.  From morning to night. Pitter patter, splash splash, rumble rumble, wet wet wet.  Eon didn’t even have a raincoat, boots or an umbrella because everyone in this land (except Eon) loved the rain and so they saw no need to protect themselves from the constant downpours and the big muddy puddles it created. Rain- happy villagers even collected the rain in giant rain barrels, they danced in the puddles the thunderstorms created, and they made ale and tea from the non- stop showers. The villagers even had “Rain, rain never go away “ festivals under the always gray skies and they grew strange ugly twisted rain plants in the streams and potholes the endless rain created.

But it was not simply that Eon hated the rain because it never stopped. Eon hated the rain because sometimes the showers followed him like bullies. Big and small downpours would literally chase poor Eon down the street until he found shelter.

He could almost hear them gurgling with pleasure at his fear and pain.

Eon had grown to hate the rain and the general wetness  so much that he refused to cry (which would mean more wetness) even when he stubbed both toes or was taunted by the bigger kids playing wet football on the playground.

“Why aren’t you ready yet? The festival starts in an hour” Eon’s mother was standing at his bedroom door trying to shake her head. It wasn’t easy. She had fastened a large angular foot bath atop her head with a towel. Villagers every year would wear silly bucket- like hats on their heads to see who could catch he most rain the fastest or who could design the most original rain- catcher hat.

“I would rather not go, I would rather be dry.”

Eon’s mother threw her head back and laughed. “Be dry ? Why that is absurd.”

“And you’re absurd” said Eon’s smallest sister who appeared at her mother’s side sticking out her  tongue  at him and pointing to her head where she had taped four  doll’s tea cups along with a teapot and a saucepan.   “Look what I did. I’m going to win a prize.”

 Eon went back to his room. This year’s  RAIN KEEPS FALLING ON YOUR HEAD Fair would have to go on without him. Eon decided he would stay inside where it was dry. Now, who was the absurd one? Those mean Eon-chasing showers would have to find someone else to torment!

Eon watched the rain fall, drop after dreary drop, daydreaming about a place where the sky was blue and the sun shone and everything outdoors was warm and dry. Where was that land? Was there such a place?

“Am I absurd?” wondered Eon realizing that he was alone, that he was the only one in the village not at the fair.

He studied the poster for the fair on the kitchen table.  FIRST PRIZE:  YOUR DEEPEST WISH come true!

My deepest wish?” I have one” said Eon reading the poster over and over, “And it is not absurd and I am not absurd.”

If he, Eon, could create a more creative hat, a more outrageous hat than anyone else in the village,  he could tell his wish to the mysterious gypsy lady who was only there for this special day once a year, and if she fulfilled his deepest wish , like the poster said, he  would be happy Eon. Dry sunny happy Eon.

Eon went to work. He raided his mother’s kitchen, his father’s workshop and his sister’s doll closet. And the hat he created was spectacular. He used string and tape and glue and finally on it sat nesting birds and huge cloth sunflowers, even a baby buggy and metal planes and tiny fountains all designed to catch rain water and pass it from one object to the next. It was so weighty he could barely walk upright with it on his head.

But Eon was ready to change his life.   If it took a silly rain- catching hat on his head for an afternoon, so be it.

“Eon, Eon, son, you’ve come to the festival. You have come to your senses.” Eon’s mother saw him, in his silly top- heavy hat and ran toward him splashing through several puddles. She looked up, raindrops splashing over her face and expressed her thanks to the heavens .”You have finally realized how fortunate you are, Eon, to have rain fall every day of the year. “

“I have only come to win the prize. I still hate the rain.  The gypsy lady over there gave me a sign. She clapped her hands. I have won the prize.”

“The prize?”

“My deepest wish come true For the best hat!  Like the poster says. ”

Oh, Eon,  you were reading the flyer from last year.  That was last year’s prize. It won’t be back until next year.”

“What is this year’s prize?

“Oh, that …No one here wants it.  It’s a silly yellow raincoat”

“Is that it? Is that all?”

“No, Eon, but the other thing is just as silly. It is a pair of rain boots. “

“ if you don’t like them. I understand. We all understand. Who would want to wear a coat and boots when you could be dancing wild free in the rain? But there is a consolation prize. “

“What is the consolation prize?”

“Are you sure you want to hear it? There’s a reason why they call it a consolation prize, son.  You would have to leave home. And never have a rainy day again.”

“And….”

“And live on an island where the sun shines all the time and the skies are blue, not like the grand gray skies we have here …There would be  never a drop of rain, imagine!  You might as well take the coat and boots, son unless you want an umbrella instead. They might have one of those silly things since no one here ever wants one.”“

“ Eon, son,  where are you going?  The consolation prize is that way.

Eon???

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