The rain pitter-pattered against Rose’s living room bay window. She watched as raindrops danced down the window pane. Ah, the rain. It held so many beloved memories. She recalled jumping in puddles with her yellow polka dot galoshes at age 4 (which her mother would always scold her, saying her slacks would be ruined), running from the school bus to her warm, safe house when she was a teenager (to which Rose chuckled, because she recalled she hated the rain as a teen!), and, her first kiss was in the rain, too. Oh, how Rose loved the memories of her youth.
February 9, 2011
Word Eleven: Memory