modctek anima

I remember when it rained
when I was small.
The rain meant being indoors
at school during recess and lunch.
The smell of the stuffy classroom,
chocolate milk and bologna sandwiches.
The cool, smooth desk
I hide my face in and cheat
while playing Heads-Up 7-Up
by looking at their shoes.
When I was older but still young
I don’t remember it raining often.
When it did,
It didn’t matter.
Too busy preparing for “life”–
Too late to bother with an umbrella–
“Is it really raining?
Can you give me a ride?
I walked to school.”
Older still,
and feeling it desperately
But when the rain comes
“Maybe the drought is over…”
We stop,
listening to the sound,
and we smile–
unless we have to get on
the damn freeway.
Old enough now
to smell the rain coming.
My knees announce the storm
and I sit at the window.
When the rain comes,
the memories are washed
clean and bright,
and I smile because I have time
to wait for the rainbow.