there is rain

There is rain and I feel my soul lapping it up, the parched garden drinking it in. There is Ruckus and inspiration for a game all our own, woodland animal illustrations on each. There are harsh words between sister and brother in the next room and my stomach tightens, feeling pulled, but I sit instead. There are crackers, made and tasted. There is laundry tumbling in the warm cocoon of the dryer. There are hopes and intentions. There are dreams to build a business like a tree house. Limb to limb, layer upon layer, generations of great grand-others holding us up on their strong shoulders, tossing down apples for pie, their stories shared or else imagined.