A Collection of Stories and Such

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April of 2011 is when I first experienced the smell of rain on warm concrete. I rememberclamoring off of the bright yellow school bus with a frog bucket in my left hand and mybackpack overfilled with library books slung over my right shoulder. I was upset aboutsomething at that moment, but the memory no longer comes to mind. I raced up the steps to myfront porch and pushed the front door to my apartment open. I kicked off my muddy sneakers,threw down my backpack, and shot up the staircase towards the bedroom that my sister and Ishared. 

The old wooden dresser that occupied far too much space in our tiny room stood,unmoving, in front of the only window we had. I learned during the previous summer that thedresser and its drawers could easily support my weight. I proceeded to pull out a drawer or twoand I hoisted myself onto the top of the dresser. I shimmied open the window and watched as therain cascaded down from the sky and coated the road that my apartment complex stood on. Ibecame entranced by the oil stains on the cracked pavement and was mesmerized by the rainbowswirls that they exhibited themselves as. The lazy breeze blowing into my window carried thearoma that the rain hitting the warm pavement produced. I took a deep breath and absorbed everyscent that blew across my face and wrapped me up in a moment of comfort and solitude. Mynose filled with scents that resonated with dark greens, warm summer nights, and quietconversations. I enjoyed my small corner of the world while I could because even my youngmind managed to understand how dull my life would become in the coming years. 

The dismalworld around me brought out some sort of unwarranted joy. I felt comforted by the dark blanketof clouds that accompanied the low rumble of thunder and the pitter-patter of rain on theconcrete parking lot. 

The stormy weather reflected how I felt inside in such a large and lonely world. 

Theearthy scent that emanated from the wet ground gave me solace that I could not find in anythingelse. 

The stormy weather had created the atmosphere that I had craved for so long.

I scooted offof my spot on the dresser and made my way back downstairs.

 After tip-toeing my way back down the stairs, I quietly opened the front door and steppedoutside. My socks quickly became soaked with the water that had pooled on my front porch. Ilistened to the drum of the rain on the battered canopy that covered the sitting area and stoppedin my tracks to fully experience the storm around me. The wild weather continued to ramp up,little by little. The rain had grown much colder in the short time that I had been standing outsideand every drop hitting my soft skin felt razor-sharp. I realized at that moment that it might betime to shelter myself from the storm outside and return to my apartment. When I made myreturn to my dry, warm room I realized that the moments that I had just experienced would stickwith me forever and that the smell of rain on warm concrete had breathed a new life into me.