The Gentle Rain and the Big Blue Heron

Tip. Tap. Tip. Tap.

Shaurya opened his bright, shiny eyes. What was that little sound? Tip. Tap. Tip. Tap.

Shaurya looked at the window. The window had tiny, shiny drops on the glass. One drop, two drops, three drops. It was raining in Lake Stevens. The rain was soft. The rain was quiet. The clouds in the sky were grey and fluffy, like big woolly blankets.

Mamma came into the room with a warm, happy smile. Good morning, little Shaurya, Mamma said. Listen to the rain. Tip, tap, tip, tap.

Mamma picked up Shaurya. She hugged him close. Shaurya felt so warm. He rested his chin on Mamma's shoulder and looked at the window. Drip, drop. Drip, drop.

Baba came in wearing his warm green sweater. Good morning, Shaurya, Baba said softly. It is a rainy day. Do you want to hear the rain? Do you want to see the water?

Shaurya clapped his little hands. Pat, pat, pat. He loved the water. In Bengali, water is called jol. Baba smiled and said, Yes, Shaurya. Jol is falling from the sky. Soft, cool jol.

Mamma found Shaurya's little yellow boots. Pull, pull, on went the right boot. Pull, pull, on went the left boot. Yellow like a sweet, ripe mango. Baba zipped up Shaurya's cozy blue jacket with the little hood. Zip, went the jacket. Shaurya was all snug and warm.

Baba carried Shaurya outside onto the covered porch. The air smelled fresh. It smelled like green pine needles, wet cedar bark, and cool, clean earth. Shaurya took a big, deep breath. Ahhh.

Look up, Shaurya, said Baba. Above their heads, the rain hit the wooden roof. Pitter, patter, pitter, patter. It sounded like a little drum. Pitter, patter, pitter, patter.

Shaurya reached out his hand. Baba held Shaurya close to the edge where the roof ended. Drip. A tiny drop of jol fell right onto Shaurya's open palm. It was cool. It was tickly. Shaurya giggled. Drip, drop! He looked at his wet little hand and smiled.

Down below the porch, the big green ferns were dancing. A fern is a plant with long, feathery leaves. When a raindrop landed on a fern leaf, the leaf went boing! Down and up. Down and up.

Boing went one fern leaf. Boing went another fern leaf. The ferns looked like little green umbrellas catching the rain. Plop, plop, boing. Plop, plop, boing.

Shaurya pointed his finger. Bah! he said, watching the green leaves bounce. Baba laughed gently. Yes, Shaurya. The rain is washing all the green plants. Wash, wash, wash. Clean, clean, clean.

Then, Baba walked with Shaurya down the soft wooden steps toward the lake. The lake was very calm. The lake was silver and grey. Raindrops made little circles on the water. Plink. Plink. Plink. One circle grew big. Another circle grew big. Hundreds of gentle circles dancing on the lake.

Suddenly, Baba stopped. Shhh, Baba whispered softly. Look over there, Shaurya. Look by the tall grasses.

Shaurya looked. Standing in the shallow jol was a very tall bird. It was not a duck. It was not a little sparrow. It was a Great Blue Heron.

The heron was very, very tall. It had long, skinny legs like two thin sticks. It had soft, grey-blue feathers that kept it dry. It had a long, yellow beak pointed straight ahead. And the heron was standing so still. Not moving a wing. Not moving a feather. Just standing like a quiet statue in the cool water.

Shaurya watched with wide, round eyes. He did not make a sound. The heron stood on one leg. Lift! It lifted one skinny leg very slowly. Step. It put its foot down with no splash at all. So gentle. So quiet.

Tip, tap, went the rain. Plink, plink, went the lake. The heron dipped its long beak down into the water. Splash! Just a tiny splash. Then the heron stood tall again, looking out over the misty lake.

Shaurya waved his little fingers at the bird. Bye-bye, bird, Shaurya thought. The heron stayed quiet and calm, enjoying the soft rain on its blue feathers.

It is time to go inside and get warm, Baba said gently. Baba kissed Shaurya's soft cheek. Shaurya leaned his head against Baba's shoulder as they walked back up the wooden path.

Inside the house, it was so bright and warm. The kitchen smelled wonderful. Mamma was stirring a warm pot on the stove. Bubble, bubble, went the pot. Mamma was cooking warm khichuri. Yellow lentils, soft rice, and tiny sweet peas, all simmered together with a touch of golden ghee.

Baba took off Shaurya's little yellow boots. Pop, pop. Baba unzipped the blue jacket. Zip. Mamma took a big, fluffy white towel and wrapped Shaurya up like a little warm burrito. Soft, dry, and cozy.

Mamma sat down in the comfy chair and put Shaurya in his high chair. Here is your warm khichuri, little bird, Mamma said softly.

Mamma blew on the spoon. Fooo, fooo. Cool and ready. Yum! Shaurya tasted the warm, buttery khichuri. It was so delicious. Nom, nom, nom. Shaurya ate one spoon, two spoons, three spoons. His little tummy was getting full and happy.

Outside, the sky was turning a gentle, dim blue. The rain was slowing down. Drip... drop... drip... drop.

Baba turned on the little lamp with the soft yellow light. Mamma picked Shaurya up and held him in the rocking chair. Creak, rock. Creak, rock.

Shaurya put his thumb near his cheek. His little eyes felt heavy. So heavy.

Mamma began to sing a soft Bengali lullaby. Ghum parani mashi pishi, ghum diye jao... Sleep, little one, sleep. The rain is resting. The tall heron is resting. The lake is resting.

Baba sat close and gently stroked Shaurya's soft hair. You saw the rain today, Baba whispered. You touched the cool jol. You saw the big blue heron by the lake. You are so safe, Shaurya. You are so loved.

Shaurya gave a big, sweet baby yawn. Aaaah-um.

He closed his eyes. In his dreams, he could see the soft rain making circles on the lake. He could see the tall, gentle heron resting quietly in the water. He could feel Mamma's warm arms and Baba's soft hand.

Pitter, patter... tip, tap... sleep, sleep.

Goodnight, sweet rain. Goodnight, tall heron. Goodnight, Lake Stevens. Goodnight, little Shaurya. Sleep tight.