Little Girls In The Rain

It's a gray, persistently drizzling day. Cats are hunkered under cars and Mrs. Williams' deck waiting out the chilly wet day. The meth head up the street has already dashed past and will likely dash past a few more times before night fall - going to I don't-want-to-know where. And the little neighbor girl just strolled past my window - back pack in place as though she had forgotten there wasn't any school today. She strolled. Children are far less disturbed by rain than adults. I remember sunny days as a child, but I remember the sound, smell and feel of the rainy ones.
Standing at the bus stop, stooped under my little red plaid umbrella, wearing my red rain boots, I was decked out for the occasion in bright colors as though going to a special event. Just getting ready to head out on a rainy day was a bit ceremonious as I donned my big, flappy raincoat and my feet were stuffed into my almost-too-little rubber boots. It was a big deal. The really lucky kids had Moms who didn't care about all that rain gear - they had the privilege of soaking up the delightful rain and arriving at school looking like little wet dogs.
As soon as I stepped off my stoop I would pause and raise my face to the sky, squinting, giggling and opening my mouth to catch a few drops of rain.
I loved to watch the drops pelting the puddles - I would briefly contemplate their patterns right before I jumped into them, splashing with guiltless joy. I'm pretty sure a lot of Moms who thought they had purchased leaky rain boots, when in reality they would have had to duct taped them around little legs to keep out the water.
The smell of a rainy day was wonderful - damp, clean and wormy. I love that wormy smell and I loved watching earthworms wriggling slowly on the sidewalks, savoring the delicious rain. The boys wanted to throw the worms and I would get angry and scream at them to "stop hurting the worms!". The rain seemed to magnify all the aromas - if it were Spring I could suddenly smell the daffodils as I walked by them, in summer Mr. Frank's tomato plants sent out a spicy green scent. Dumpsters sent out a magnified aroma as well, so I'd hold my little nose and dash past, averting eyes and olfactories to ward off the stench.
I still enjoy the smell of rain although I'm considerably less fond of getting rained upon and it's been a long time since I've watched the pattern of raindrops on a puddle, much less jumped into one.