“I have never danced in the rain,” she said.
Her words transported me back in time to my childhood.
Woods protected our farm, a fragrant mystery of spruce, maple and oak.
The rain gutter on the barn perched so high, hawks nested there.
Providence was a hole in the eavestrough the size of a man’s fist.
Orange-clove shampoo with my sister in tow made for summer adventure.
Gravity created a waterfall, mischievous hands deflected its force.
Washing our hair in freezing-cold rain, we became land-locked mermaids.
Lightning eventually forced us indoors.
Boldly embracing life, we never stopped yearning for more.
“I write because I have something to say. I write because for years I was told my voice didn’t matter. I write for freedom and I write for hope. I am a late bloomer and went back to school a few years ago. I studied hard and read more books than I ever had in my life.” – the writer