Summer

As I pedaled through the sunset tonight, I was thinking homophones. Specifically, the homophones of the word “rain.” It’s one whose forms you often see misused, even in professional publications – and no wonder. It can rain water, but also compliments and approbations, honors and punishments, not to mention cats and dogs. A queen or king can reign; but so can a class clown, a tennis star, or confusion. The reins on a horse are leather straps designed to control it. But you can give a student free rein on his project, or tighten the reins on one that misbehaves.
Today was the first day of my summer. There was an early morning bike ride, a nitrous-oxide high at the dentist’s office, making crepes for lunch, holding my breath as my twelve year old took his first cross-town bike ride with just a friend, letting it out in wonder as I watched him walk out of the pool building looking for the first time like a young man, studying a textbook to prepare for next year, seeing my boy’s long, already tanned legs folded on the sofa, madly competing with a friend over their Nintendo’s, listening to him brag about the worm farm I’m taking care of for the summer like some weird class pet. Hamburgers for dinner, and then another bike ride. Heaven in a little yellow house.
Summer. Long may it reign.