The rain is steady but gentle so I can still hear the single drops as they fall on the leaves by the deck. Every now and then a bird calls. The house is dark, the sort of dark which feels safe and lends itself to contemplation. I have no plans for the day except maybe doing a wash. The laundry bag of clothes has been sitting and waiting for two days by the cellar door.

Gracie sits by the back door and watches the rain. Soon enough it will be her morning nap time. What a lovely way to fall asleep: gently lulled by the drops of rain. She’ll sleep in her crate. She loves it on days like today.

I am in a reading mood today. I see myself lying on the couch, quite comfy and cozy. I don’t have a book to read, but I figure I can download something. When I was young, I used to lie in bed with the headboard light on and read all afternoon when it rained. Even then I’d leave the windows opened so I could hear the rain fall. In a house filled with people, I always felt as if I were alone, as if I were the only person in the house. It was always the most peaceful time I can remember.

I loved riding my bike through puddles. I think it was a bit like Moses parting the Red Sea. On each side of me a giant wave was whooshed into the air by my tires as I rode through. My sneakers and the bottoms of my jeans always got soaked, but I never cared. Puddles were far too much fun for such small considerations as wet shoes and pants.

Rain in Ghana never stopped the world. Everyone was always out and about their business as if the day were sunny. I did the same thing. Before I left, I was given a fold-up umbrella as a gift. My first week there, when I had used it in the rain, I left it in a room, and it was gone when I went back a short while later. That didn’t really matter. After that, I just walked in the rain the same as everyone else.