Run Between the Raindrops

Today brought the first summer rainstorm, complete with humidity, wet shoes and steamed up sunglasses. (Why I wear sunglasses on rainy days is beyond me, it's just something I do.) It's positively yucky outside and one of those days when you'd rather be in bed taking a rain nap. It's a 'let's order in lunch today' to keep from venturing outside into the Center City mess where everyone hops over the puddles on the corners and have umbrella fights as they navigate the sidewalks.


Sometimes I really enjoy the rain. I like the smell of the air right before the sky opens up and it starts to pour. I like how quiet the streets are, only filled with the white noise of the storm. I used to sit out on our back porch during a thunderstorm and watch the sky light up. Most of all, I love the thick droplets of rain that sometimes come down and land hard on the ground, the cars, your forehead.


"Run between the rain drops!", my Dad used to say. He'd joke with us and recount stories of his younger years in which he'd go out in a storm and dodge the drops. I pictured running around, looping in and out of cars and trees. I've heard so many stories about my Dad's youth, from him and from others who knew him. I wish I could go back in time and hang out with my Mom and Dad, when they first met, dated, fell in love. I need a remote control for time.

There is so much I feel I missed out on, when it comes to my Dad and his life.

For now, I will continue to navigate the storm, running between the raindrops.