I think I like the rain. I mean, I think I don’t mind it at all. I like when it hits my face, my hands, my palms. It reminds me that I’m alive. In the moment. In a time that we’re all walking around wearing shoes, so cut off from our senses, it’s the closest I get to a constant stimulation reminding me that I’m present. Here. Connected to the grounding force of Mother Earth as the rain grazes over me and gets recycled back to Her core. I like how the rain sounds when it’s pitter-pattering off rocks or when I close my eyes and hear it flowing back into the ocean. I love it when it makes the sand wet and I have [yet another] excuse to take off my shoes and feel the squishy sand between my toes. I like standing under a tree and being kept safe from the rain. At times like this I’m extra happy to hug and be near a tree friend. I don’t like when the rain turns aggressive and burns my eyeballs as it pelts me with its force. I don’t like when the wind picks up and it gets cold and Mother Nature reminds me of Her might by pelting me from all sides. I do like when this happens and I’m running late and P looks at me and is all, “mom, are you crazy?!?!? Princess puppies don’t walk in this!!!” Yeah. I do like the rain. I do like it alright.