This is Rory during a torrential downpour the other day. One of my favorite things is sitting on the porch on my red bench while it rains (which, in Reno, it hardly ever does, so these are moments to behold).
It’s incredible not more of us adults do what she does. Especially out west, after a long drought like we’ve had here. After seeing all the photos of our reservoirs, lakes, and rivers having dried up, you’d think we’d all be out in the front yard, arms open wide, fingers splayed out, thanking the gods above.
Kids show us the most honest part of ourselves.
It’s profound, our connection with the rain. Rory has no idea about any drought. Something just calls her to it. It’s exciting. The coolness of the rain hitting her skin. The smell of it washing down the sidewalk. The drama of the rushing noise and the striking, ominous thunder. When do we adults start censoring ourselves from celebrating it?
About as close as I can get right now is my little red bench.