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moved the water sprinkler all around the yard and garden. The okra, squash and swamp hibiscus plants thanked us and sprang back to life.

Then finally one afternoon, the house grew dark around 3 p.m., and we heard a loud crack over the house. Mom and I rushed to the windows like two children running to the Christmas tree on Christmas morning to see what presents Santa left for us. Two minutes later, we heard large drops hitting the roof. It progressed into a full blown gully washer. We watched the rain as if we were watching a movie or a theater performance. Water poured off the edge of the roof, and it kept coming down — for about 30 minutes. Afterwards, the water line on the rain gauge suggested we got an inch of the wet stuff at Ohoopee.

And just like that — everything was right as rain again.

“Well, wasn’t that wonderful?” Mom asked rhetorically.

I nodded. The phone rang, and my mother picked up the receiver.

“Did y’all get some of that beautiful rain?” she asked.

And the cycle continues. Thank you, Lord, for the rain.

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