I love the rain. I love the way it smells. I love the way it makes the greens more vibrant and the yellows more lively. I love to listen to it when I sleep and watch it when I am awake. I love the boldness of thunder and the excitement of lightning.

In between showers, I was able to go outside for a walk and enjoy the post-rain scenery. It still smelled like rain and the air was cooler than a typical pre-June day in Texas. The clouds were fighting against the sun, committed to yet another heavy rain before the day was through. I could hear the growl of distant thunder preparing me for its arrival. I made it home before it let loose.

My two boys were waiting for me, excited about the downpour. They waited for my approval before they headed outside, fully dressed, to create their own version of a rain dance. They splashed and squealed and begged me to join them.

Unfortunately, like most grown-ups, I declined. In retrospect, a decision I regret. The next time it rains, I will be out there with them – refusing to let senseless inhibitions stop me from making a memory and joining my children playing in the rain.

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