I am obsessed with rain. I love rainy days. Sometimes I think I might love to live in the Pacific Northwest, but then I remember it snows there, and I thank my lucky stars I live here. Cold = ew.
But there's just something about rain. It reminds me of when I was little. My grandmother used to watch my brother and me during the day. If it rained, she would dress us up in my late grandfather's work shirts and send us out to her long driveway. We would hop from puddle to puddle, demanding Grandma watch us the whole time. Barefoot and happy, and connected with my grandfather long gone--that's how I remember rain storms.
Since Carpenter died, every time I see a rain storm, I just know Carpenter and my dear grandfather sent it to me. When the wind blows huge washes of water across our cul de sac, I throw open every window in the house and breathe in the fresh air, straight from heaven.
Waiting for a rainy day...this is my grief.
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