A Matter of Rain

Raindrops threw themselves against the window panes. Trying in vain to destroy something which in reality they had no chance of destroying. And their futile attempts were only perceived by one pair of the deepest blue eyes ever seen by any rain. These blue eyes belonged to a little brunette girl, not much older than six. The rain was a constant in her life, something dependable, unchanging, predictable, and therefore comforting.

Annette sat in her window seat that morning, basking in the rain's familiarity. She loved the rain, mostly when it came right before the rising of the sun. But she especially loved it when the storm was harsh. It's voice would thunder across the plains, and echo back to her from the distant mountains. It's heart would flash, and she would be captivated by it. Her heart raced with the rain, her soul cried with the storm, and her eyes captured the breaking of the dawn, which would inevitably clear the storm until another time. Annette would then sigh, turn from the window, and set about beginning her day.

But whenever it would start to rain in the afternoon, she would slip out from underneath the negligent handmaiden's care, kick off her shoes, and race into the storm. There, among the woods, she would dance; in and out of the storm she danced. She'd laugh at the rain, and skip around the trees that grew to be miles high, and there she would sing. She'd pour her heart out in song while the rain made music build up all around her. And the heart of the storm would thunder on.