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we walked in the rain last night, or rather i did.  she rode her bike in her sunny new butterfly dress with the ruffle at her chest, her knees pumping up and down, swerving this way and that and i almost held my breath as she took the corner at a pace i thought sure would cause her to topple into the gravel, but she didn't.

the gray increased until the first drops came. we heard them first in the treetops before we felt them. mommy, it's raining she called back. we'll keep going i said, no threat of thunder on the horizon yet, knowing she had already kept going far ahead of me, no thought of turning back.

then the drops fell harder and faster, thwack, thwack down through the leaves, leaving great dark splotches on the stones. then they were gone and we were barely wet and she left the bike careened on the side of the path and came to walk hand in hand with me, talking, talking, talking, buzzing in my ear about beavers, about her friend Layna, about a book she was reading, about the calves at the farm that afternoon that had licked our arms, counting in Spanish, stopping for rocks that caught her eye, there and there and there.

the raindrops came and they went again and again, on and off, and she flicked the low branches and yelled "shower" and we giggled and linked our arms again and every so often i leaned into her damp head with my cheek and took the moment in.

i love summer vacation evenings.