Yesterday it rained. Last night it poured. I was at the Cape Playhouse to see Kiss Me Kate when the heavy rain started. It pelted the roof so loudly I saw most of the people in front of me look up as if they were expecting to see drops falling. After what seemed like a long time, the heavy rains were finally quiet. By the time the play was over, the ground had absorbed most of it.

This morning we still have rain, small intermittent drops of rain. Condensation is on the outside of my windows from the AC  interacting with the humidity. It’s what I call the glasses effect. When I leave the cold car, my glasses fog over and I can’t see. I stop and wipe them before I bump into someone or something. It always amuses me a bit.

In the summer, my mother was reluctant at first but after a while was only too happy to let us out of the house when it rained. When we were stuck inside, boredom settled in quickly then the fights started, the he called me this and she called me that sort of fight. My mother always yelled for us to stop, and that worked for a few minutes but then back we’d go to sniping at each other. We’d ask if we could go outside, and she usually agreed. With us gone, peace was restored in the house.

We’d put leaves or paper boats in the gutters and watch them float down the street. We’d whip branches and soak each other. Sometimes we’d take our bikes and ride as fast as we could through puddles so the spray would fly into the air on each side of the bike. We got soaked.

When we’d go back into the house, my mother would make us take off our sneakers then she’d send us upstairs to change into dry clothes. Our feet were usually so wet we always left footprints on the wood floor. I always liked that part.