It was dark that day. The clouds seemed to grow like the ever increasing pile of laundry in my closet. I was walking home, staring down at the pebbled ground. I absently kicked a stone and watched it skip down the sidewalk. It made me remember the day I played hopscotch with Mae. We swore we’d be best friends forever as we drew white chalk lines into the ground. The day was sunny, we were young and vowed we’d some day run the world. Funny how those feelings change as you get older.

I was jolted out of my memories by a lone raindrop that landed on my eyelash, taking a rest before making its slow journey down my cheek. I wondered what it would feel like being a raindrop, falling from the sky to who knows where. Kind of reminded me of the first time I fell in love. We were 13, he found me crying on the front steps of my house. He didn’t ask what was wrong, just slowly rubbed my hand like he could rub away what was hurting me. From then on, we had a mutual agreement. We didn’t talk about anything but us being together. It was a nice feeling, to be able to escape the world for a few moments. He moved away when we were 14, and I never heard from him again. Sometimes I think I see him down by the river we used to play in, but he’s always gone before I can reach out to him.

I was sent to another memory when the sky flashed with lightening. This one, I’m smiling at my sixteenth birthday party. I went to blow out the candles, wishing for only one thing. I didn’t expect to get it; it’s not every day a person finds true love. But that didn’t stop me from wishing on those melting wax candles. I glanced up just as a picture was taken, a silly half smile forever captured on my face.

The rain began to pour and I started running towards home, anxious to get there before the rain soaked through my white canvas bag and into my homework. Teachers are unsympathetic about that kind of thing. As I neared my front yard, one more memory reached out of the back of my mind. This one is of a dark haired, forest eyed boy who captured my heart in every way possible. It was Valentine’s Day, and pouring rain. He asked me if I ever took the time to appreciate the rain. I laughed and tossed my hair, smiling impishly at him. “Sure I do,” I spoke softly, “I enjoy watching the rain from inside a building, it’s too wet to really enjoy otherwise.” He smiled back at me and took my hand. When I asked what he was up too, he just shook his head and told me to wait and see. The shock of the cold rain on my skin caused me to gasp and I turned to run back to the car. He pulled me closer and told me to enjoy the moment. It was the first time I had ever danced in the rain. It felt magical; there’s no other feeling like dancing in the rain with the guy you love.

Remembering that moment, I hesitated on the doorstep. I then tossed my backpack inside the shelter of the house and began dancing in the rain. All the worries of the week left me, and I laughed as the heavens let loose their tears on my skin.