The sound of the rain beating down calls forth a sweet memory from so long ago

I’m suddenly standing in my childhood home staring out through rain streaked glass

Too small to see out any of the windows I’m drawn to the open front door

Its storm door with its giant glass vista, provides the only vantage point on the outside world.

The world outside a uniform gray, the sky so heavy it seems to hug the ground,

I retreat, startled by a sudden brilliant flash and the rumbling moving through my bare feet.

Reclaiming my steps, the rain continuing to descend in sheets as I move closer to the window.

My nose pressed to its glass, my hands against its slick cold surface.

The realization that there will no playing in the world outdoor today

Shrinks my world to this ten by twelve-foot room.

Its walls, white as a blank canvas, its floor dark with green wool carpet

Offers very little hope of a day’s distraction.

My wandering gaze, returns again and again to the door

The rain continues in torrents, drops the size of Lima beans

Turning the front walk into an angry ocean.

I’m so intent on the scene outside, I don’t hear my mother’s approach

Until her hands settle gently on my shoulders.

We stand silently, simply watching the unfolding storm.

My complaints of impending boredom brings a knowing smile.

Pointing to the flooded sidewalk she asks, “don’t you see?”

“The fairies are dancing in the puddle” she explains, “don’t you see?”

If you use your imagination, you can daydream this rainy day away.

I did, and will never again see the splash of a raindrop without

Seeing a fairy dancing and my mother’s face.