The last time I had glanced at the clock on the kitchen counter, the time has been just after four in the morning. A trifle early one might think for anyone to be up and about, especially on a morning where the weather was as it is, but like my sister Abigail tends to say to anyone that would discuss her older brother, I am unlike most people.
The sky was dark as would be the norm for this time of night, but even here out away from the bright lights of the city, one could see the colors of the early morning sky. It was not yet dawn where the darkness would recess into the horizon with colorful hues of pinks, golds and oranges. That miracle of the coming morning was still a fair few hours away. At this time of the year, the sun did not rise until roughly past seven, so I was quite content to simply sit out here on the porch and enjoy the rain as it broke through the gray and purple clouds in the star lit sky.
I had always loved this type of weather. Always. My immediate family would seem to be somewhat divided on this aspect. My dearly departed grandfather and sister much preferred the bright blue sky and lots of sunshine, which is always nice to enjoy when there are chores to do throughout the day. But between you and me, I don't think there is any form of comfort quite like waking up to the sound of rain tapping at your bedroom window. My grandmother would be the one in the family who agreed readily with me on this. She absolutely loves to hear the rain at night or in the early morning hours and snuggle under those thick, warm comforters on her bed and just listen until she either falls back to sleep or until the rain ceases, whichever would come first. Which is nice, I will admit, but me? Personally I become restless when I hear the rain coming down, the harder the better, and I simply have to throw open a window or set foot outside on the porch where I can enjoy it in its fully spectacle.
Which is where I am right now. I wanted to enjoy this as much as I could before the impending trip to Ireland so I had put on a pot of coffee which I would probably finish myself before the first of my family awoke, and out onto the house's enclosed porch I came. This was a bit of a pet project that Abigail and I had endeavored in during the fall months; to put up screen awning around the entire porch on the front side of the family house so we could sit out here and enjoy the weather, despite what Mother Nature might throw our way. We even had two heating furnaces added to the 'decor', so to speak, so that during the colder months out of the year, we might still come out and enjoy the weather in relative comfort.
Which is why I'm sitting out here right now, bundled up in my winter jacket over the T-shirt and pajama pants that I had been sleeping in when the rain woke me up. Hey, I was no fool. I love this weather but I didn't feel the urge to die from a cold while en route to Ireland. So I had both heaters turned up high and that first cup of coffee held between the palms of both of my hands, a small bit of added comfort while I simply sat there and watched. I did not even day dream as I was wont to do, or think about the upcoming match I was involved in, nor the world tour as a whole. For me, the great joy of the rain was simply sitting there and watching it, well, rain.
I lifted the mug of coffee to have a sip, the steam from the contents all to visible in this early morning air, with or without the heat from the furnaces. It was yet only 47 degrees outside, and despite the comforts added on the porch, nature simply won out in one form or another.
I could remember when I was a boy, sitting at the desk in my bedroom with the windows pushed out during the rain and watching as the rivets of rain water splashed down from the room, to the top level of my open window, down to the second, and to the ground below. It was much like a waterfall, and as anyone in my family or those close that I call friend will testify, I harbor a bit of a special place in my heart for anything that has to do with waterfalls. They are simply a breath taking miracle of nature, no matter what form they come in. Maybe that is one of the reasons why I take such delight in the rain, as if I am somehow in the center of the grandest water fall of them all. Who knows? I have never stopped and tried to decipher my own mind's workings. As Abigail would tell you, and perhaps my Grandmother as well, that would be a lost cause all unto itself. I simply did then what I am doing now. Sitting back, relaxing, and watching as the water poured down from the roof, as some went down from the gutters, but all washed out into the road that went past our house. It would be an hour or so before cars drifted by with any regularity, splashing the water that flooded the sides of the neighborhood street up onto the pavement.
My eyes actually left the roof's edge of the house and the water cascading down from it for a fair bit of time and out onto the road which was illuminated by the street lamps. I could not help but be properly mesmerized by the way the golden light from those lamps shone down onto the running water, and the ripples from the splashes of water from above as it struck the surface of the street water harder. The rain was definitely picking up in its intensity but I didn't care. I was safe and comfortable. Part of me wishes that I had thought ahead to bring a book or my ereader down from my room so that I might put away a chapter or two while it rained, but in the end it was best that I had not done so. For one, reading relaxes me and it probably would have put me to sleep right here and now. Then where would I be? Also I would have missed the simple pleasures of the coming rain and what it entailed for me as a person, so the reading material stayed where it was, as did I.
I am either getting old or absent minded, because I was enjoying this so much, I did not even notice the light in the living room switch on, nor did I hear the soft sound of my Grandmother's footsteps as they arrived at the door that led out to the porch.
"I thought I might find you out here." Came the soft voice of the woman I had come to love as both a mother and grandmother lo these many years since Abigail's and my own parents died tragically in a car crash. I started. I admit it. I'm man enough to admit that I reacted accordingly to hearing a voice come from behind me and sloshed the hot coffee in my mug onto my leg, and let me confide in you a little secret: pajama pants don't do much to shield your bare skin from the scalding contents of a hot cup of coffee.
"Bo. Language." Grandmother said, but she had a softness in her eyes that told me she understood the choice word I had not even realized at that point in time I had uttered. She pushed the patio door open and set foot outside. She was still clad in her bed clothes, but had on a robe that Mister Parker had bought for her once when he was overseas, and slippers on her feet to stave off the morning chill. And around her shoulders was the blanket that normally was on its resting place over the back of our living room sofa. Every so often during my 'busier' excursions while competing for Sin City Wrestling, a guest or two was known to stay over at our house. Normally it was Mister Parker or Mister Ward, and the sofa was where they crashed ore often than not. Unless Grandmother got it in her mind that I should sleep there so our guest had the comforts on my bed at their disposal. Either way, the blanket was always there, for just such emergencies.
"What brings you out here?" I asked, taking concern that it was still cold out and I was concerned for my Grandmother's welfare and health. "It's cold outside and Abigail would kick my tail if you were to get sick just for sitting here with me."
"If you can enjoy this rain out here, then so can I." Was her only response to my show of concern as she took a seat on the second chair out here, at my side, and who was I to argue? It did not matter her age. She was relatively healthy for such an advanced age as she had, but she was our Grandmother and as such, she was always right -- even if she was wrong. But I dare anyone under our roof to try and prove her otherwise. Even Mister Ward and Mister Parker, the two strongest willed men I know, have found themselves shut out a time or two by her authority beneath this roof.
Never tell them that I said this but seeing them speechless at her behest was a treat to see.
"And if you want to get technical young man," She smiled like an impish little girl as she gratefully accepted my mug of coffee into her own hands. Something else Abigail might take me to task for. Grandmother's doctor asked her to ease off the caffeine and Abigail had been relentless on her following doctor's orders. me, however? Not so much. I want what is best for her, yes, but she wants so little and a morning cup of coffee is one of her simpler of pleasures. So, as a dutiful grandson, I indulge her.
She continued, "I might the same thing of you." She took a sip from the cup of coffee and mad a face but I chose to ignore it. She usually drank her's with just a hint of cream and sugar. Me, on the other hand, I preferred flavored creamer with the taste of chocolate. She simply didn't have the sweet tooth that I did.
I opted to have some fun and go on a bit of the defensive as I pointed out, "True, but I'm not the one who just recovered from a cold a couple weeks ago. Do you think it wise to come out here in the night air and the rain and risk falling ill again?"
"Oh poo." She said, and that might have very easily been settled but she always did like getting the last word in -- and explaining why she did so. "It's an old wives' tale, getting sick just by being out like this."
"Really?" I asked with a mischievous grin of my own, looking right over to her. "Then why did you always make Abigail and myself come in out of the same weather as this when we wanted to play?"
"I said it was an old wives' tale." She sniffed primly. "I didn't know the truth of it until I was old."
I laughed. I couldn't help it. That was my Grandmother's reasoning for you. I settled back into the chair and looked back out and as her eyes followed mine, I trusted that she knew best. I mean, she was almost in her eighties. She must know enough about life and what was best for her if she had made it this far.
She started too speak, "I actually was wondering why you were up. I know the rain always captivated you, but don't you have to be up soon so that Abigail and I can drive you into Tulsa?"
"Not for a fair few hours." I answered, accepting the cup of coffee back from her. I guess it was too sweet for her. "Most everybody else is probably already in Ireland as we speak but Mister Ward know that I don't want to leave home until absolutely necessary, so he and Mister Parker help arrange my flights accordingly."
"Putting off such a trip just to spend time with an old lady." Grandmother shook her head.
"But enough about Abigail." I chuckled, turning to give her a wink. "I like to hang out with you, too."
"Oh!" Grandmother cackled in girlish delight, covering her mouth with her hand and looking 'up' where the bedrooms were upstairs. Her own was downstairs for convenience. "I just bet Abigail kicked something in her sleep and will never know why she had the urge." She paused a moment before clasping her hands in her lap, and I could not help but notice the way that she subtly massaged her knuckles. This chilled weather must be causing her arthritis to flare up a bit again, not that she believed I noticed.
I said, "It's a long flight. I can catch up on what sleep I've missed on it."
"But the car ride to Tulsa isn't as short." She pointed out. "And you're driving. Won't you be sleepy?"
"Won't you?" I smiled. "You're going with Abigail and myself for the car trip."
"I'm not driving."
"You know, in wrestling there is an unspoken rule on the road." I teased. "If the driver is awake, and we all hope he or she is, then everybody else in the car has to stay awake either."
"Interesting." She nodded. Then she turned to me and smiled, "I guess then it's a good thing I'm not a wrestler and can sleep when I chose."
Sometimes the sense of humor this woman deftly displayed was simply too much and I could just lose myself in it. One couldn't believe that she was as old as she was, and as sharp in mind and humor to boot! I chuckled and nodded, point well taken.
"Are you concerned about your match?" She asked. "Didn't you tell Abigail and myself you were on a team with a young lady?"
I nodded. This was indeed unique territory for me. Tag team wrestling was most definitely not my favorite thing in the world, but never before in all my years as a competitor have I ever been involved in a mixed tag team match. being paired on a team with a woman was as alien a concept to me as mustard would be on a steak. I had no objections to teaming with any of the SCW Bombshells, because they had all proven themselves as capable as any man on the roster, each and every one. Its just never a chance that has arisen before me at any point, and here I am. I did volunteer for this event, after all. Maybe it's a natural part of my being Native American, but there is something about one's heritage that find fascinating, including the origins of this sport in itself. Mister Parker gifted me with a small video collection of wrestling matches from what he called the 'Golden Era' of professional wrestling, and it made me want to take part in this 'Blast From the Past' event and honor the men and women who came before me. Those who paved the way for many generations of wrestlers to come.
I have always found history to be one of my favorite topics. It's why I teach it at school, and a hobby of mine, delving into not just my family past, but that of the Cherokee nation as a whole.
"I'm looking forward to the match, actually." I admitted. "I've never been involved in something like this before so it'll be something new to experience."
"You don't have to wrestle the young woman on the other side, do you?"
"No, thank god!" I laughed, despite myself. "They don't allow men to compete against the ladies in SCW, Grandmother!" I could see her breathe a bit of a sigh of relief. My Grandfather had never, ever, laid a hand to the woman he held in such high esteem, and she absolutely abhorred the idea of any man laying a hand to a woman, whether it be for sport or not. I chuckled, "It's just as well for my own ego as I have no doubt in my mind that Amy Marshall could and would whip my tail."
Finally, I managed to get her to chuckle a rather light laughter. She nodded, knowing full well that I would take great care not to get hurt as best I was able, and I would do all I could not to allow the women in the match to come to harm from myself or the other man I would be personally facing in this, the opening round.
Joshua Acquin is a fierce competitor. He would have to be as I realize he held the Tag Team Championship around his waist, and to hold any championship in Sin City Wrestling was a true testament to his own unique capabilities inside of the ring. He would not be an easy foe to conquer inside of the ring. He was an impressive technical wrestler, but I, and perhaps I am tooting my own horn a bit, I feel that I have a bit of an edge in that department. After all, I would like to think that I was trained by the best, and Mister Parker has never allowed me to ease myself from my training. Even after the personal setbacks that I had suffered from this past year or so. In fact, I would dare say that he intensified the training regime he had me under double. The one thing I was forced to acknowledge that Joshua Acquin held an edge over me was the fact he had a vicious streak in him that I simply did not. Oh I can and will fight if pushed, and I have many times, but this man weaves that hard edged fighting ability into his matches with his technical prowess and tat indeed makes for a formidable opponent.
His own tag team partner is no less top notch, and she will make for a tough opponent for my own partner, crystal Hilton. I was not entirely jesting with Grandmother on whether or not Amy Marsall could whip my butt if she so chose. If there were any woman on the roster that could handle herself inside of the ring with man, it would be her. The woman is a complete package inside of the ring, with technical skills that rival any man's, high flying aerial style that would make your average Luchadore south of the border green with envy, and if you saw her do to Gabriel Asar what I did a few weeks ago, you'd see that she had a hand at brawling as well. Though I would dare say that the jackass deserved it and more.
All of this will make for a competitive match I am certain, but one that my partner, Crystal Hilton, and I eagerly await. Miss Hilton has held her own inside of the ring and I am proud to go into this match at her side, although between you and me, I would have truly gotten a kick out of it had I been teamed with Brandi. Still, Crystal has an impressive showing inside of SCW's rings, and we will do all in our power to move on in this tournament.
"Come." I said to my Grandmother, standing up. "I saw you shiver. Time to go in."
She shook her head in mock dismay, but smiled none the less, pleased that she had grandson that loved her and sought to take care of her in these her golden years. Too many young people my age want to get rid of those older than them and put them away where they can't be bothered. Not me, nor my sister, and Grandmother knew it.
I turned off both furnaces and then helped her up from her chair and escorted her inside. I paused while I took one more look outside as the rain started coming down even harder.
And, should anyone think to get any ideas and act the part a fool, Mister Parker has promised that he would be there to show them just how bad of an idea it would be to even try. That was more of a promise to my Grandmother and Abigail rather than me. They knew I had to try, and this match was another chance for me to do just that.
I reached up with my index finger and flipped the switch that turned our porch light off, and I shut the patio door behind myself and locked in, listening as the rain pelted against the roof and windows.
Ireland and my opening round match would soon be here. Bring it!
