Rain Drops Keep Falling On My Head

soak-wet-rain-umbrella

It rained all day on Fourth of July
There wasn’t one firework in the sky
“Rain, rain, please go away!
It’s my Independence Day!”
All the people complained with a sigh.

There is nothing worse for ruining a long holiday weekend than a constant deluge. It’s been raining five days straight over Atlanta, Georgia as I write this. This weather is fluky for Atlanta in the summer. It is so unusual I contemplated building an ark.

The irony of the situation is that my adventurous younger daughter loves playing in the rain. (For the purposes of my blog posts, I shall now call her “Indy” in honor of her recent declaration that she wants to be Indiana Jones.) She makes splashing in puddles an Olympic sport and can’t resist getting soaked under streaming rains spout. She has a fascination with umbrellas and is compelled to open them, even indoors (despite my best efforts to tell her it’s bad luck.) The other day she discovered the joys of making mud pies and had an assembly line going with her friends, to the dismay of the other parents (and to my dismay as well). After her mud pie factory was unceremoniously shut down, Indy quickly moved on to observing the wiggling earthworms that appeared after the downpour.

Indy’s birthday is fast approaching and I have an inspired idea for her presents: her very own kids-sized umbrella and some rain boots for serious puddle splashing. Of course I have to throw in a picture book for good measure. I was lucky to find one online called Come On, Rain (by Newberry Medalist Karen Hesse) about a sudden summer rainstorm in a swelter city and a little girl’s excitement about romping in the raindrops. It’s serendipitous to find books that perfectly match what is going on in my life.

I’m glad all the rain didn’t ruin Indy’s long holiday weekend. In fact, she found a kindred spirit in her young male cousin visiting from Dubai, whom I’ll call “Short Round.” He also loves the rain. Where he lives in the Middle East it rains as much there as it snows here in Atlanta, Georgia, which is hardly ever. The second it started raining, he shot straight outdoors to feel and observe this mysterious water falling from the sky. His enthusiasm for rain put my whining about the weather to shame.

Five days of rain should leave me cranky and depressed, as lack of sun often does, but this week’s showers symbolize renewal. I have a renewed sense of joy watching my daughter and her friends revel in the rain, oblivious to the wet clothes plastered to their bodies, faces turned up to the gray sky in pure delight. Their adventures in the rain soak my parched, adult heart.

Of course, my observations are made from the cover of warm, dry shelter which I’ve concluded only grown-ups can really appreciate.

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