The dog pressed to my side, damp and unsettled. The rain lightly iced his golden fur. He snorts, and I think of the smell of trees wet with drops, of overflowing pools, of nights of thunder and howling wind. He isn’t happy but still likes to watch the rain pour off the roof while standing on the porch. I think that rain brings back memories, falling into my thoughts like drops from a grey cloud. And as the thunder growls outside, I feel lonely even with my dog held close. There will be sleepy nights and dark days, wandering thoughts and endless noise from drops hitting the roof. It’s the kind of day I could watch go by, just me and my thoughts. But I’m not alone today.

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