Rainy Days

When I was a child, "tornado" was a word that built excitement. Rainy days and dark clouds beckoned my mom, my sister, and me to the garage where we would camp out for hours.

We would sit on the trunk of the car and watch the rain pelt the tree in our front yard. We would inhale the fresh scent of wet, muddy grass.

Some days, the streets would be so hot that when the rain fell it caused steam to rise from the cement. Those were the best days to go for a barefoot walk around the neighborhood. They're some of my favorite memories.

I love heat, and I love thunderstorms and tornado warnings.

When the clouds took of peculiar forms, sometimes we would walk towards them aimlessly. Somewhere in us we hoped for something to form just to see the raw beauty of tornado weather.

Then, on nights when it rained, we all slept well, put to sleep by the soothing hush.

My mom sometimes told us to get in the car after a nice, long storm. We would drive around just to enjoy driving through the deep puddles that collected on the sides of the roads. They would pull the car in and my mom would shred through puddle, causing a miniature tidal wave to fall upon the curbs.

I miss doing that.

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