(Pic of young Lily in the Rain)
Young Lily.
The rain was beating down in sheets, heavy never ending sheets. And I was the rock parting the droplets from reaching my patch of ground. But the water didn't care, it just continually went around me- warping but not letting up. So I stood there. A seven year old dressed in a drenched pink shirt and turned dark blue jeans. My head tilted up to the sky, eyes closed with water dripping off my lashes and streaming down my face. I was the picture of sophisticated innocence but I had no idea. All I cared about was the rain pouring down on me, a lovely interruption from my simple backyard games. And of course I treasured the feeling of the pooling water beneath my bare feet, it was freeing for any seven year old.
Sadly my time of self discovery was to come to a close as my mother poked her head out of the backdoor screaming at me to come inside the house and asking me "where my damn rain boots were". Of course I didn't answer, cause I didn't care. I loved the rain. Everything about it, the feel, the sound, the smell, the inescapable hope it gave me. I was intriguingly hypnotized by it.
My mom ended up having to come out from under the porch and drag me into the house away from the watery paradise. I hadn't known she knew I was out here. But then again I hadn't known a lot of things. Like the fact that I would catch pneumonia the following day, or that my mother had been watching me the whole time. Or even that she wasn't the only one watching me. My neighbor, a shy seven year old boy had sat at the window fascinated since the first drop had fallen. He had not been entranced by the rain though, but captured by the frozen figure who seemed to belong with the rain herself. I had no idea, and I never would. Though, as my mom pulled me back into the house I could have sworn I felt someone's eyes on me, felt their spirit reaching out to greet mine. If I had only glanced up maybe I would have known. But then again, if I had glanced up I would have only seen the rain.