In Defense of Rain

When my sister and I were little, we used to go outside in our underwear and dance in the rain. After we were properly soaked, we ran inside and my mom had hot cocoa and the wood burning stove ready for us. We wrapped in one huge blanket and watched the millions of droplets hit the window, eventually meeting their demise.

There's something about the rain that clears the mind and awakens the senses. There's nothing to chase, nothing to do, and inside of my covers with the window open is exactly where I feel I need to be. Time seems to move in slow motion and everyone retreats back to their homes and their couches and their blankets and their families.

I think of all the reading lamps and candles set ablaze, illuminating all the words in all the books around the city. It's the same light leading the rest of us, through frizzed hair and fogged glasses, home.