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Memories Fall Like Rain
The pitter-patter of soft rain on the roof immediately puts a smile on my face.
As I run to the back door, I’m reminded of the color green, of lush evergreen trees that are covered in the morning dew.
The muddy puddles that smell like a vast, salty ocean.
The rain calls upon many memories from my past, good and bad.
Every time I hear the rain, I think of splashing outside in the puddles,
running with my dogs to see who can reach the door first,
cuddling up in a blanket by the window with the smell of fresh chicken noodle soup that my mom cooked for me.
All these specific memories come from just one thing:
The pitter-patter of soft rain on the roof.
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