(This was written last Thursday evening)
I am sitting at my desk, by the open window. A rain drizzle has started, and a few misty drops come inside, reaching my upturned face as I glance outside. Memories of rains past, fall thundershowers from my childhood surface.
When I was a grade-schooler, we lived in a house that had a large roofed porch in the front of the house. This enabled us to stand on the porch, relishing the smell of fresh air and rain, while remaining comfortably dry, even when there was a real downpour. And until today, I love the smell of the rain, and unless it is really cold, I will leave my windows open (but blinds shut) when the fall showers come, so I can relish the freshness of G-d’s bathing of the world.
Some people dislike the rain. I love it; it energizes me, unless I am cold. And here, each drop is so precious, so needed, even the slightest drizzle leaves me feeling blessed.