A Change in Weather

My kids always said that I could control the weather because every time I went to Oklahoma to visit them there would be a tremendous change from the weather predicted.
During droughts, I would bring rain.
I could bring on a heat wave or I could make one leave.
Out of season weather would show up. Storms, snow, ice, hail, rain, and tornadoes.
After the furious weather, there would always be stunning rainbows and gorgeous sunsets.
I never claimed that I could change the weather with my presence, but my kids insisted that I did and I started to believe them because it happened every time I visited.
The first two years I lived in Vermont, the sunset wrapped around my entire house every night.
If I was driving up to the house, it looked like the sunset belonged to only me and my two acres.
For three years, I ran out after supper and roamed my fields, capturing pictures from every side of the house. I even did walk around the house videos without losing sight of the sunset. I never understood the dynamics of why the sunsets surrounded my house, no matter where the sun went down.
My husband tried to teach me north, south east and west, again, but I wasn’t interested. In other words, I put my hands over my ears and sang Janis Joplin songs.
That’s when he drew a map on my fence post. I still smile every time I see it because eventually he had to admit that the sunset surrounded our house every night, and it didn’t matter which direction it went down.
The sun has not colored my skies since my son died, April 18, 2023. I know because I peek out every night to see if there is any color in the sky.
I get a few streaks of pale orange now and then, that’s it. My wrap around the house sunsets are gone; and somehow, I feel responsible.
It’s as if my happiness attracted the yellow, gold, orange, red and pink cloud explosions and then, my grief sent all the colors away.
I don’t know if I will ever find my way back to the woman who chased the sun.
The one who spent hours taking pictures of corn fields, flowers and clouds as the sun went down, amazed as the sun’s rays painted everything they touched.
The woman who naively believed that she could fix her children’s addictions with her prayers, her love and her charge cards was forced to acknowledge she could not save them.
She sits at her corner table, staring out the back window and she knows the sun is out there, not here, but somewhere.
She misses the sunset pictures her son used to send her when he was on the road. The sun loved him too.
She doesn’t know when she’ll be strong enough to attract the sun’s presence back into her life, but she knows that she pushed the sun away the moment her boy drew his last breath.