By Lorry Myers
The forecast predicted hot weather with a chance of pop-up thunder storms but I ignored the suggestion of rain and focused on the temperature, packing shorts, short sleeves and walking shoes.
I left my umbrella at home.
All the years since high school, my high school friends are still my dearest ones. It was hard but we always managed to sneak in time to meet in restaurants our husbands wouldn’t take us or concerts they didn’t want to go. When our children were older, we started planning a girl’s weekend away so we could shake things off and be ourselves with the people that love us the most.
This time, we were headed to Rocheport for a Girls Night Inn. We started with a late lunch at the bluff restaurant where we had a special table reserved for us in front of the massive window that overlooks the Missouri River. We didn’t have time for appetizers or chit chat because there were shops waiting for us. After strolling the shops, we planned on renting bikes to cruise the Katy Trail, and later that night, there would be dinner and a spot waiting for us in front of a local band.
We had it all planned.
At the blufftop restaurant overlooking the river, we told each other how much fun we were going to have. Seated in front of that picturesque window, we could see for miles. So, we had a perfect view of the sky growing dark and the clouds beginning to churn. The color of the river deepened and little white caps began to break and swirl below us. While we reviewed the menu, rain starting spitting on the stone patio outside as lightening cracked the sky and it suddenly became very apparent what this was and wasn’t.
This was not a pop-up shower.
By now, anyone waiting to be seated had left and many of the diners had asked for their checks. But not us, we sat there and watched the clouds roll and the rain and wind change the river. The thunder rumbled and shook the window but we never once discussed leaving. The four of us have been through a lot together.
A little storm wasn’t about to scare us away.
Reluctantly we realized that our plans of walking and shopping and biking, were not going to happen. We had planned this weekend for months, never once considering a
bad-weather-back-up plan. What about strolling between shops and riding the trail and the outdoor patio at our weekend house that begged us to pull up a chair and light the fire pit?
The storm had changed everything.
We sat there and stared out into the dark, wet afternoon knowing that nothing we had talked about doing was going to get done.
For the complete column, see this week’s edition of the Centralia Fireside Guard.