Precipitating Memories

When the first few raindrops started to fall, she wasn't concerned. The weatherman had warned of a passing sprinkle. The kind of rain that would lightly dust the skin, only to evaporate a couple seconds later. It was described as refreshing. Brief. Passing.

She had actually been looking forward to it. A temporary escape from how things had been.

The heat of the summer had become unbearable. Shirts clung to her back. Her hair was out of control after a shower, frizzing out in every direction - completely unmanageable. Food no longer carried a taste. Her mouth was too dry. All her body yearned for was liquid. The last time it rained was months ago, just as spring was sneaking out the door, allowing summer to take hold.

As the rain continued falling, she was started by the smell that was wafting from the ground. Faint - but present. It tickled her noise. Brought her to her senses. She had forgotten what it had smelled like. The ozone. The smell of wet concrete. Drops of oil and gasoline that had seeped into the cracks of the asphalt. It was completely intoxicating. Smells that were usually hidden began to bloom as the water continued to soak into different parts of the city. She smelled the forest as the flowers potted along the shop windows opened up, welcoming the precipitation. Her lungs screamed for more of the soil from the trees that sporadically lined the streets.

She was so focused on the scents flooding into her nose that she didn't notice other people running by her - hands held over their heads, protecting themselves with whatever they could. Jackets, newspapers, an occasional briefcase. By the time she looked down, she realized she was completely drenched. The sky above her had cracked wide open, releasing months of built up pressure. The drops that fell were fat and heavy - slamming into the ground with authority. Exploding all around her.

There was nothing left to do but smile. Looking up - it was obvious that there was no sign of it stopping. She was soaked through. All she could do was accept and appreciate. It brought her back to the days when she was a kid, running through the yard with her younger sister only a few steps behind, trying to dodge the drops as they plummeted to the ground. Their parents had created it - told them that since they were smaller, they could squeeze in the crevices between droplets. If they remained dry, they'd win. Too naive to realize losing was inevitable, they played every passing shower. Giggling up their own storm.

Before she could even realize what she was doing, she found herself bounding down the sidewalk, skipping back and forth, zig zagging the best she could between the drops. Smile spread ear to ear. She felt young again, as if her sister was actually there, playing with her.

But this time, because she was already drenched - the game was never ending.

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