Personal Narrative

I remember this night better than I remember last night.
My sister was only ten, and I only seven. At the time my mother worked third shift, she was driving us to our baby-sitters house. It was dark out, I don’t remember exactly what time it was but it was late. I had on my favorite pink nightgown, it was wet from running to the car in the downpour. I was on the right side of the backseat looking out at the rain, it was raining very hard that night.
No one was talking, we were all very tired. There was no radio playing--my mother hated music. looking out the window I remember watching the rain hit that long piece of metal that lines roads with cliffs on the sides. Watching that strip of metal being hit so hard with rain, it was