As I stood in my kitchen this evening and fixed myself dinner, I happened to look up at the window and noticed the raindrops gathering on the glass. I heard the patter of droplets and a vague memory of my childhood hit me like a semi-truck.
I grew up in Puyallup, WA, home of much rain. Few storms but boy does it rain. Many a time I sat inside and stared wistfully out the rain spattered window wishing I could play outside. We used to camp out at Oma's undeveloped lakefront property. I would awaken in the camper or tent to the sound of raindrops softly tapping on the roof. The rest of the day would usually be damp and accompanied by some bit of grumbling, but now I look fondly on those times and realize life will never be that simple again.
Here in Texas if it's raining it's usually storming and I know I'd better get inside. Even now I can hear distant thunder. But oh the days of my childhood! On several of these rainy camping trips my sister and I would jump in the lake and feel the rain on our shoulders and heads. What fun! There would usually be no one out in a boat and the only sound was the sound of water dropping through the trees.
Ah to experience those days again....I only hope that George will have such wonderful memories.