It’s getting dark, too. I am outside, while everyone else is inside. I keep looking around wondering if there is anyone else who enjoys the rain like I do. Sometimes cars drive past, and their headlights expose me–just a strange, small girl walking with her palms open, the street water glistening on her bare toes.
When I walk back inside, I will look at my palm and try to count the raindrops. But there will only be a puddle. I wonder if I am learning something right now, if all the little particles and experiences and situations of life come together at the end to form one big… what? Right now I will just let the water tickle my skin. I wondered this morning if the rain was God spitting. Or crying. Maybe the angels were taking a shower or having a water fight in the heavens.
Down here on earth, the rain makes me happy and thoughtful.