When What to My Wandering Eyes Should Appear

Last evening at my writers meeting at the Mt. Pleasant Public Library, I was talking with two of the librarians, waiting for more members to arrive and for the start of the meeting. The area darkened as the clouds lowered and thickened with the approach of a line of thunderstorms. Shortly after that, my cell phone warned of possible flash flooding for the area and the rain came down in torrents. The parking lot became a river and the few people that braved the storm came in drenched with wet heads and soaking feet. Even those who had umbrellas sere rain spattered.

My son who lives in Amarillo, Texas called. He asked his usual question, “What are you doing?” I answered him telling him I was at the library and waiting for the meeting to start. We talked a bit more and said good-bye. Not too long after our conversation, the library door opened. I looked up, thinking it was another writer coming for the meeting, but at first I thought it was just another patron for the library. When I did a second take, it was my son. He flew in from Amarillo to spend the weekend with me for Father’s Day. I hopped up from the stool and gave him a few bear hugs. We talked for awhile, then he went to surprise his sisters with his unannounced visit. I went in for the meeting. As soon as the initial meeting was over, I headed toward home, only stopping for takeout food at a local Chinese restaurant. We ate, talked, and watched the Mets beat the Pirates.