Rain, Rain

That beautiful sound of rain as it first begins to spatter down from the sky. It makes my soul happy. A wry smile begins to curl from my lips as I hear the first low murmured rumbling of a thunderstorm on its way. Book in hand, blanket on my lap, and a mug of chamomile tea close by. This is my heaven.

I can feel it coming in the weakness in my ankle. The only weakness I don't mind at all as it signals one of my favorite comings. In my mind I conjure the feeling of the warm, sticky pavement beneath my feet as I smell the acid of wet earth. Rain itself is an oxymoron--warm and cold combining together to create something so cleansing and beautiful.

I smile as I realize I have forgotten to shut the kitchen window.