A Spring Rain

It was a misty drizzle when I went for my run, Mother Nature looking as though she was just in her slip.

The temperature, in the high 40s, gave a glimpse of what’s to come, urging me to be hopeful, at least about the weather.

A spring rain was what occurred to me, meaning it was light and warm, nothing more than a backdrop, like the scenery of a play.

It made me think of three men I love: Abraham Lincoln, Bobby Kennedy and Bill Hicks.

When Lincoln was buried on May 4th, 1865, at Oak Ridge Cemetery in Springfield, Illinois, along with his youngest son Willie who had died of typhoid fever three years earlier, it was during what historians have called, a spring rain.

Bobby Kennedy, during his short campaign for president, paying his respects to Mr. Lincoln, knelt before his tomb to pray, bursting into tears.

While Bill was on the road, he too paid a humble homage to our 16th President, saying, he couldn’t quite explain how he felt, just that it was familiar, as though he had been there before.

In hindsight, when Bobby, in 1968, and Bill, 1994, made their unexpected exits, maybe Abe was on hand to greet them.

  One can only smile. One can only hope.  

SB