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A large expanse of roof, a driving rain and I’m a child again.

I can’t see the rain drops pounding on the hard, flat surface that’s keeping me dry, but I hear them. Dancing. Singing. Their own special music.
A gust of wind, an increased cadence.
A lull, a calm, they drop their pace.
Piano, pianissimo, crescendo, decrescendo, Mezzo forte, piu lento, it’s all so allegretto.

Please… shhhhh.  Don’t say a word.
No phone. No visits. No intrusions.
I can’t explain it; don’t want to try, for you’ll only look at me with a bit of a blank stare, and politely agree that you’re sure it must be nice.
But you can’t get it; you weren’t there.

It was a hard-top camper-trailer in the 1970’s and we were somewhere far away. No TV, no schedule and no cars zooming up the road. I did have my bike – a blue two-speed (you changed gears by simply kicking the pedals backwards) with a white banana seat – but it was parked that day, because everything was wet. HDL

So I sat on the top bunk, reading my Huey, Dewey & Louie visit Uncle Scrooge comic book. I don’t think it was one of the ones pictured on the right, although those covers are familiar… seems to me it had something to do with them running all over the desert picking little knobs off of the cactii and discovering that, when deplugged, they were just like little fountains… solving the drought problem (Uncle Scrooge, of course, was trying to figure out how to capitalize on this new revenue & profit ‘stream’ – pardon the pun). Ironic that it too had to do with water…

So here I sit, physically in an upstairs office, late at night, just listening to the rain. When I close my eyes however, I’m back in that camper trailer, just a kid… and it’s undescribable!

Like Uncle Scrooge… I wish I could bottle that feeling, both for the purpose of pulling it out whenever I need a pick-me-up or for allowing you to taste first-hand just how good it feels…

I wish I could bottle this.