The drips become more and more powerful against our skin as we lie there, not caring. I stare at the deep gray sky, feeling each drip against my skin as I lay next you. I grasp your hand as you grasp mine and just as we did when we were young. We ran. We ran through the field of daisy’s as the water falls from their petals drenching our shoes. We ran to the puddles that we have memorized step by step. We ran around the play ground sliding down the slide that usually burns our butts. We ran until the drips slowed, as we got cold, and the dryness of home sounded appealing. We would dry off quickly and wait at the window to see the true beauty of rain, a rainbow. And growing up we repeated these steps with each summer rain, we valued the soaked clothes a lot more than our parents, we loved the adrenaline of a lightning strike close by not matter how much we were told to be careful, we loved rain, we loved the rainbow, but most of all we loved each other.