Melissa's Place

Tomatoes in the Rain

My sister wrote me the best e-mail. I love it because it personifies the little worries (or neuroses) that she and I share and the ways in which those who truly love us attempt to ease those worries.

Last night, in Ottawa, there was a thunder storm. Apparently, at one point, it began to rain very, very hard. Maryann and Ben were awake in bed listening to the rain when it occurred to Mary that her tomato plants, which she had so lovingly potted and placed on their balcony, might be drowning or worse yet, might be toppled by the torrential rains and gusty winds. So Ben, bless his heart, plodded downstairs in his sleeping attire and bare feet (ill-equipped though he was for the stormy conditions) and ventured onto the balcony, enduring a thorough soaking, to rescue Mary’s tomato plants. He brought them all safely inside then returned up the stairs, his bare feet now leaving wet footprints on the wooden steps, his hair clinging to his forehead, but a warm satisfaction in his heart knowing that his loved one would sleep easily tonight.

He crawled back in bed and Mary, feeling bad, said she was sorry and that she was thankful. They closed their eyes.

Then, about ten minutes later, the storm began to subside and the rain let up. Mary’s eyes opened again. She turned anxiously to her husband, “Ben? What if the plants are leaking their water all over the wood floor?”

So Ben got out of bed once again, went downstairs, and put the well-loved tomatoes outside again on the balcony.

And they all lived happily ever after… Maryann, Ben, the tomatoes and the parquet floor.