I Love You, Too

You cock your head, considering; then, with a shrug of your little shoulders, so typical of your don’t-care, tomboy nature, you kick back and continue swinging, as high as you possibly can. You don’t waver when fat raindrops start to fall, speckling your T-shirt and pelting your hair.

From my safe, dry perch on the couch, I watch the rain drench the wooden deck, pooling on top of the covered grill and inside the hammock.

Then, just as suddenly, the sky clears, and the sun’s rays turn the raindrops into dazzling diamonds of light. You jump off the swing, land on your knees, hop up, and begin exploring. I don’t stop you; you’re already wet anyway. First, you peel the cover off the grill, shrieking in delight as the water cascades onto you. Then, you splash in the hammock, no doubt finding it like a curious, suspended little swimming pool.

But the best is yet to come.