precipitation anticipation

I can’t exactly put my finger on it, but something about the walk home from Cambronne always reminds me of playing outside in the early summer in Georgia. Maybe it’s the fact that there are a lot of leafy green trees on some of the roads that I take. Maybe it’s the calm feeling I get when I leave Charlie’s apartment and stretch my legs a little, with smoky hair and my ballerina slippers. Maybe it’s the poppies in the park, or the little kids on the swingsets.

Today was not an exception. Sunday afternoon and sunny, slight breeze. And then all of a sudden the sky turned very dark and the breeze became a bit more menacing, several large raindrops fell on my forehead.

All I could think of is that moment when you are on your bike, a mile from home, circling around your little girlfriends, and that feeling arrives. The blue shifts, the wind flips your ponytail, and you know you better step on it, fast, if you want to make it home before the sky opens up and empties itself of all those hot summer raindrops.

The kind that sizzle and pop when they hit the hot hot black pavement, letting off puffs of steam.