I woke up to gray and I watched the rain and I was glad.
Remembering all those months of drought, when I wanted so much just to feel the rain.
Today I soaked in it.
I walked the city with a casual hand on the umbrella and felt my clothes slowly get saturated.
I watched the rain make its path and patterns.
The water lets my mind float.
Wet patterns break up worry patterns and wash them away.
The shelter of an underpass gives me a place to remember.
There was a highway near my childhood home, and I loved climbing under the overpass to sit in the top corner there, hiding and rolling gravel and hearing my voice echo.
Cars rushing past, splash! The rain makes me invisible, as though I am eight years old again.
I watch the drops and rivulets bring cement to life.
Structures melted by water. The clarity of rain.
A pedestrian bridge makes a long gallery
that frames the rain into paintings.
The city, my own private exhibit.
Today’s penny is a 2013. That’s the last time I took a long walk in the rain on purpose. Too long.