I used to love the rain before I came here. Rain used to mean relief from the heat. It used to mean much needed water was finally here.
Rain used to mean life.
I woke this morning to the sounds of rain gathering in the gutters and flowing into the yard. In my half-waked state I smiled and remembered a time when I would have lept from the bed to watch this precious gift fall from the sky.
I did not leap from the bed.