Rainy days

Rainy days remind me of the first house my parents bought. Our backyard was huge and a wild forest. It was perfect. The area hadn't been built up yet with shopping centers and neighborhoods on every block so I could wonder in the woods for hours. I remember just sitting in my room staring out the window at all the trees. I dream about that house often. I always dream that I find a hidden door that opens to an entire new house - like house of leaves, kinda.

I remember one day - I think when I was in fifth grade and there was a luncheon at school that my dad came, too - when we got home it started pouring. I think it was the day before my birthday, too. For some, I decided I was going to spend the whole day crying. Not sobbing - more so weeping. I remember my dad kept asking me what was wrong at first and then after a while he just sat with me and we watched the rain. I wish I had a picture of that view. I bet the people that live in that house now have cut down all those trees - they were out of control. Something about it made me feel wild. Or maybe it was just that I was becoming a pre-teen and was probably pre-pmsing.