memories of home

Driving up to the house, my house, the tires screech to stop as the carts tires also most to the rhythmic symmetry that I have come accustomed to my whole life. As the car comes to a full and complete stop everyone clicks off their seat belts and the big van door slides open and everyone moves like a well-oiled machine to exit the car. Someone locked thee front door so one of the kids runs through the side of the house to open the door. Like little white mice all the children move and to their separate ways throughout the house to occupy their short attention span and in no time at all everyone is either watching television or on a computer or screaming and yelling at each other. The time with my family is so special but I appreciate when they are gone from the house so I can have it to myself. I love making miniature campfires in the backyard which is the largest in the neighborhood. The wind blows throughout the trees and the smoke gently sifts vertically up toward the canopy. These are some of my favorite times
I remember just sitting on my bed, innocent and wondering about nothing I would hear the rain fall from the sky and the cars moving through the rain where the tires would sift the water to either side of them.
What an awesome feeling the rain can make. It is not a bad feeling. Its not a depressing feeling. It is a feeling of youth. And not caring about anything other than where the rain is coming from.
Just sitting on my cold bed I have a weird feeling of warmth. As I have the comfort of the fireplace downstairs warming the house in such a natural way. As if it does not matter how wet you get or how low one can go the fire in its secure position makes me feel secure. And when I get wet from the water from the sky, the fire will dry away the cold in my bones.
The sound of rain is one that is hard to explain. Its like the soft clapping of hands in a certain rythim come together and feel so natural. I miss the sound of rain, and simply rain