Newsie Challenge #7
Write about rain. From the POV of Kloppman.
Well, here goes nothin'. Hope y'all like it!!
I hate the rain. It always brings back memories; not bad memories per se, but memories that an old man would rather not remember. Memories of my one and only true love. It had been how long? Almost 50 years and still, every time it rains, I think of her; my beautiful Rose.
I remember first seeing her in Central Park in 1849. I was only 20 years old, but I felt like king of the world. I sold papes just like the boys at my lodging house do now. Anyways, I was selling papes in Central Park when I first set my eyes on her. She was beautiful. Bright blue eyes, rose colored lips, porcelain skin and curly brown hair tied up and out of her face. She came over to me and asked if she could buy a pape. At first, I was stunned and didn't say anything. I guess I took too long giving her the pape because she took a pape from me with a smile and giggle and tossed me a nickel. Every day after that she would come and buy a pape from me and give me a nickel.
We became friends, after I had gotten the courage to say something to her, and the closer we became, the more her parents worried that 'some little street rat' was going to use and abuse their daughter. By that time I had told her, on numerous occasions, that I loved her and wanted to be with her. Well, needless to say, she didn't appreciate her parents thinking that I was going to do that to her. She ran away and we eloped. It was a simple ceremony, held at a church in Central Park, and the priest who married us was a frequent customer who bought his morning and afternoon papes from me. He knew we were in love and would do anything to help us.
We stayed married for almost ten years. We were both about thirty when she died. I remember the rain outside, which was ironic because Rose always loved the rain. She told me something I will never forget, 'It's always easier to hate the rain than love it, don't you think? I mean, who in their right minds would love something that's so depressing and dreary? I do and will forever, so, do me a favor and always try to love the rain and when it does, think of me." Then she slipped away from me forever. I cried as I called the priest to let him know she died. He was very kind and let me bury her on a plot of land that overlooks Central Park. She did always love it there.
I've stayed away from Central Park all these years, for fear that all the memories that Rose and I had together would bombard me all at once and make me want to die, just so I could see her face once again. I walk outside and into the downpour, lifting my head towards the sky. I know that I might catch pneumonia and die, but wouldn't it all be worth it? Wouldn't it?