a light rain

there was something about the weight of rain

after a long car ride; it was no longer falling heavily

it was a midst, a sprinkle, with enough warmth in it to call me to freedom among its drops

freedom from the seatbelt of the car, freedom from the tired weight of sitting still

I freed my feet from the heavy shoes

my children looked at me funnily

and I ran out of the house

There was something about the weight of the rain

at it softly landed on my forehead

it gathered and streamed down my face

a cooling relief

There was something about the feel of the rain

in the puddles, splashing through my toes

that brought back the memories of a high school body

that could run much faster.

She was in better shape, she breathed more easily,

jiggled less.

But she knew little of giving thanks, deep thanks,

for that breath and beating heart in her chest.

There was something about the lightness of the rain

that washed weight from my spirit, and when I came in dripping

from my ridiculous run, 

and she asked if we could go on the trampoline,

I shrugged soggy shoulders

and then I raced her there

and we flew in the sky together

each landing releasing a happy explosion 

of water beneath our feet

and laughter

giving deep thanks

in the light rain.

(Inspired by writing prompts from Voice and Vessel)