scratch tickets, rain, snake skins

It is the time of year for birds on a wire and rain and long lines at traffic lights in school zones.

Last night I walked with my friend in the rain to buy scratch tickets and there was a tree with leaves red already. I know scratch tickets are mostly a waste of money but also, they are the tiniest bit of hope that luck will change, that things will turn out alright.

That is what yesterday was. The first day that felt not like summer, but instead, like fall. A reminder that seasons change and the stress about money I have now will change too.

One day, Holden will be in school full-time and I will return to working forty hours a week and I won’t need to piece together gigs in my child-free hours to get by. One day it will rain but without the symbolism that there are dark days. Instead: the rain will symbolize growing things must be watered.

We are growing things who change and adapt to our circumstances. We need the rain as much as we need the sun.

My friend told me, “things tend to work out the way they’re supposed to” and I believe her. I believe her.

I believe her just like I believe in rain.

Like I believe in scratch tickets.

Like I believe in humans shedding old skins, like snakes, and growing new ones. A snake will shed its skin as long as it’s growing, and snakes grow all through their lives.  Shedding skin allows for continued growth.

I am shedding my summer skin and the rain is pouring, in droves. Holden has a new Yo-Kai shirt on because he, like me, is growing.

A snake’s skin is more vibrant immediately after a shed. The grass is greener after the rain. And sometimes, rarely but surely, scratch tickets are winners.