Inhale.

It has been raining all day.

The roads are shiny and so are the roofs of the cars parked on my street.
The grass squeaks when you walk on it.

And I can breathe.

My green rubber boots are standing tall by the door and they promise to keep my feet warm and dry if only I will go for a really long walk.

The rain makes me want to cook properly and not just heat things up...so that my whole house smells like dinner and the kitchen is warmer than anywhere else.

The very best dressed ladies at the mall have to hike up their designer pants and jump over the puddles in the parking lot, and do the same awkward tip-toe and hop that the rest of us have to do to get inside.
And the ones who are wearing the most makeup are trying the hardest not to get ANY rain on their faces because it will make their mascara smear and run.

My hair is curly and unruly despite my efforts to be smooth and polished and sophisticated.

I think that the rain does as good a job at washing away pretense as it does anything else.

And I can breathe.