When it starts to rain, we run outside with buckets and turn it into a water-fight.

We fling it at each other, jump in puddles, and let the storm blow into our hair and faces until we’re sodden, sopping, soaked.

Uncle takes it a step further, unleashes the hose.

The humid air around us feels like it finally disperses, letting light and rain flicker through in equal parts.

The yard is a lake, and each of us is a chaotic island, caught in the grasp of the storm.


Image: Rain by Jon Shave, shared under Creative Commons license

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