She had been shopping with her Mom in Wal-Mart. She must have been 6 years old,
this beautiful brown haired, freckle-faced image of innocence. It was pouring outside.
The kind of rain that gushes over the top of rain gutters, so much in a hurry to hit the Earth,
it has no time to flow down the spout.
We all stood there under the awning and just inside the door of the Wal-Mart.
We all waited, some patiently, others irritated, because nature messed up their hurried day.
I am always mesmerized by rainfall. I get lost in the sound and sight of the heavens washing away
the dirt and dust of the world. Memories of running, splashing so carefree as a child come pouring
in as a welcome reprieve from the worries of my day.