Into each life a little rain must fall


I recall the moment I decided to like rain. We were in the breakfast room on a soggy afternoon; my dad mentioned that he liked the weather and we challenged him. He shrugged and said there was something sensuous about it. I was in my single digits and conditioned to find most things unnerving but that immediately resonated and has stayed with me since. I don’t remember not being conscious of the rain. I used to confuse the clouds with smoke from house fires. When I was in second grade a car down the block – probably empty – was on fire while we were eating dinner. I needed my mom to come to fire safety week that year. and book fair. and to the World Trade Center because it’s so high.

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