The Rainstorm

The library is usually quiet, but today, it is filled with commotion. I am huddled at my customary table with my computer and stack of books, determined to write. To be productive. I left home to escape the perpetual evanescence of my three children, who wake at eight o’clock each morning, dinging brightly like miniature summertime bells. “What are we doing today, mom?”, ding. “Can we play in the sprinklers?”, dong. “Who ate the last red popsicle? You said I could have it!”, ding, dong! “I don’t want to take the dog for a walk, I might get kidnapped!”, ding, dong, ding, DONG!