On the beautiful island of St. Mary that I call home, the rain has been falling a lot lately. It does not bother me a lot, though. Well, it usually does not bother me at all, but today, it bothers me a little.

Well? I don’t quite know. Maybe it’s bothering me a lot, and perhaps it’s because on the day it started, it soaked me from head to toe, or maybe it’s because, on the second day, a small car speeding through the rain could not slow down in time to avoid splashing dirty water into my face. On the other hand, though, it could be because my best friend’s mom is ill and is worried she will not recover from this illness.

“Rain, rain,” I began, but I sighed, unable to finish the well-known rhyme because I knew better. The rain was doing its job, and the island needed it to do so because only recently, the National News said that if the rain did not fall soon, during the upcoming hot months, we might not have enough water in our reservoirs.

My best friend’s mom is a tall, well-proportioned, brown skin woman with four children: two boys and two girls. The three older children are out of the home, but my best friend, the youngest, is home and majoring in Marketing at the only university on the island. Her mom once referred to her as “our God-given, unexpected, well-welcomed and lovable baby.” My friend was standing next to her when she said that, and she stood on her toes and kissed her mom on both cheeks before hugging her. In my twenty-two years on this earth, I’ve never hugged my mom or even kissed her. Well, maybe I did when I was a child, but I do not remember that.

My friend took her shorter height from her dad, but her siblings took their mom’s height, and there’s a nine-year age difference between her and the sibling, a brother, closer to her age. Her two older siblings were married and had five children between them. Her other sibling, her brother, recently moved out and was renting an apartment with his girlfriend.

My friend’s face was a younger image of her mom: light brown eyes, round, slightly raised cheekbones, long eyelashes and little eyebrows.

In high school, I walked about fifteen minutes to and from school, but my friend’s parents, usually her mom, drove her because she lived a little farther and in the opposite direction of my home. One day, that time of the month came suddenly, and even though my friend helped me out with a pad, my clothing was already soiled. I put my coat around my waist to help block the stain, but since this happened just before school was out, my friend asked her mom if she would give me a lift, and her mom said yes!

She told me two weeks ago that her mom was not well, and when I asked, “Is it Covid,” she said, “I thought so too, but it’s not.” She added, “The doctor wants her to do some tests.” I wanted to know what test, and she told me.

Yesterday, I texted her, saying, “Your mom is one of the nicest people in the world; God will not allow anything bad to happen to her.”

I’m not someone who doesn’t believe that God exists. I believe that He does, but my parents have brought me up to think for myself and like them, I believe there is a God, but He rarely intervenes in man’s affairs. My friend, though, and to jump to the point, is a Christian, so she believes in the Bible, and that’s why I texted what I did.

She replied, “What about Job?”

“Job? What job?” I texted.

Why was she talking to me about a job right now? Was she trying to change the subject? Still, what job was she talking about?

She replied, “Not a job, Job from the Bible, the guy with the outbreak of sores on his skin. Bad things happened to him even though he feared God.”

I hope you noticed that I’ve referred to her as my best friend, but the thing is, I am not her best friend. Her best friend, someone who attended a different high school from ours, would have known who Job was and would have never said, “Your mom is one of the nicest people in the world; God will not allow anything bad to happen to her.”

Her best friend would have known who Job was.

Then she texted: “Thanks for the encouragement because, after all, God was in control of Job’s situation, and He took care of him.”

That’s why she is my best friend! You see, even when I say things that aren’t always correct, and I often do, ask my family; my best friend, she always finds something good to say about it!

Today, though, her mom will receive the results, and I will text her to find out about it.

I am sure it will turn out well. Wouldn’t it? Well, it will not hurt me to pray, too. Will it? Nah!

“God,…” I begun.

The End

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