Dancing in the Rain

    I still recall the days, not too long ago when I would yearn for the rain, not for its practical purposes like avoiding drought but for it whimsical potential. I remember praying for rain so I could show up from school soaked to the bone and ready for a cup of hot coco. I would run from puddle to puddle each time jumping harder and loving it. I always knew there would be a warm towel waiting for me by the door. So day after day in the rainy season I would pretend I was part of some kind of musical, swinging from posts imagining what a wonderful world it would be if only it rained every day all year long. The rain was perfect back then, it was everything a kid with a good imagination needed. 

     Flash forward to present day, I'm 25 years old, and terrified that the rain is going to get me.  The mere sight of rain drops send me running to the closest awning. I feel as though I'm somehow related to the wicked witch of the west. Rain could quite possibly take a toll on my body and melt me until all that is left is puddle, and once I turn into a puddle some bratty kid will disturb my very existence by jumping on me. What on earth happened to my childhood love of water? Did I forget how to enjoy the little things in life? These days I'm so worried about ruining my clothes, staining my shoes, having my hair frizz,  or even just getting the carpet wet when I come home that I stopped enjoying the amazing miracle that is rain. 

    How did I go from thinking the  feel of rain on my face was the most amazing thing in the world to thinking that the sound of rain drops on my umbrella was all I needed to enjoy rain. Doesn't every girl dream of being kissed in the rain? Not if she's wearing Gucci I suppose.