The rain.

Rain falls. It gets stuff wet.

I step in it, let it splash on me, and I get wet. I am young. I don’t care for what the grown ones do. I just run and play, back and forth, to and fro.

I fall down once more. I laugh.

I see some birds fly through the sky. I close my eyes, and in my mind I am a bird, just like them.

I get up and run back to the house. Hues start to arc in the sky. It looks nice.

The clock on the wall strikes twelve; a bird shoots out and makes a noise. I make a choice to count the times it makes its noise.

One. Two. Three. Four. (This is fun; I don’t know why.) Five. Six. Six and one. Eight. Nine. Ten. Ten and one. Ten and two…

“Soup’s done,” my mom’s mom says.

I have not had a bowl of soup as good as this in my life, not once.