both an urge to go outside in my pjs and stand in the soft beckoning glow of the lamppost downstairs with my arms outstretched and inhale the wonderful smell of the beautiful rain before it comes to an end all too soon,
and a necessity to feel content and grateful for access to a warm home, solid and secure shelter with these trusty concrete walls that shield me from wind and rain...
yet, keep me from precisely what i want to feel and taste and see and hear and smell.
even now, the beating of the rain subsides.
when i was young, once, just once, my mother let us play in the rain.
we were sick the next day, but back then, in our young minds, in my young mind, i could do anything.
this is my Father's world -- why should my heart be sad?