Insulated — by Alan Caldwell

Artwork by James Keul

We read a poem about rain, about a young girl watching the drops strike her window and then slip to the pane below. One of the boys raised his hand and said he hated the rain because they had to cancel his Little League games when it rained. The girl in the poem liked the rain. I wish I could find that poem again. My mind is awash in familiar fragments. I told our teacher, Mrs. Barker, that I liked the rain too. The little-leaguer laughed. Mrs. Barker asked me why I liked the rain. I told her that the rain made me feel insulated.

●       

I pulled my arms under the cheap, clear, and insufficient poncho, laced my fingers around my knees, and leaned back against the soaring yellow pine. The branches and needles slowed the downpour. It was cold, a few degrees above ice. I shivered and embraced myself under my plastic shroud. I began to warm, slowly, incrementally, and then to feel whole in some way, insulated, as if I, and the entire Earth, might be clean again.

●       

My feet slipped on the soaked blades of grass. I almost fell. I was the strongest of the six, and if I faltered, they would have surely lost their grip. I imagined your coffin hitting the ground and seeing you roll out of it. You and I would have been amused, the others, not so much. They huddled under the canvas tent with the preacher and sang dirges:

When we all get to Heaven,

What a day of rejoicing that will be!

When we all see Jesus,

We'll sing and shout the victory!

I stood in the deluge, alone, my worn wool jacket getting heavier and heavier. I lingered till the other mourners left. I watched as the workers began concealing you, the red clay sticking to their shovels in defiance. I watched till your hole was filled, and still fell the rain. I watched till the tents were folded and rolled. I watched till the workers drove away and we were alone, just the two of us. You always liked the rain. I felt insulated.

I feel insulated.

Alan Caldwell has been teaching public school in Georgia since 1994 and will retire in June. he only began writing in May of 2022 and has since been published in dozens of magazines and journals. Two of his stories have been nominated for the Pushcart this year.