I heard it begin. I was sitting in the office and I heard the tell-tale pit pat on the windows. It started slowly, it always does. Tap tap tap tap. It was as if it was giving me time to finish whatever I was
doing so I could watch.
Just as I stopped typing, the clouds burst. It was a roar from inside. It was also the best sound in the world.
I hurried out the door to stand on the porch. I leaned on the railing to just watch for a bit. The pavement darkened quickly and the rivulets began to run downhill. Everything began to get glossy.
I stared across the road. I watched the fat, wet drops race by and explode on the asphalt. I listened as all the other sounds of the world were washed away, and there was only the hiss and swish of the rain.
I saw a quick flash, and heard the thunder grumble in the distance. I like the grumbles, but I always hope for a crack or a boom. The storm is always just as exciting as I need it to be.
After all my standing and watching it was time. I stood up, and took my socks off. I stepped off the porch into the pouring water from above.
It felt like it always does when I walk in the rain: Clarity