A quiet, rainy evening with my baby

Rain pours down, like a shower someone forgot to turn off.  Thunder peals. Lightening occasionally lights up the sky. I’m in an old house on the second floor, with tiny windows that make me feel I’m looking out from an attic.  Some of the windows don’t close, bringing the sound and the chill of the rain even closer.

My baby is in the next room, near one of those windows I can’t close. The drips, the bangs, the flashes surround her dreams. I want to hold to her to my chest and protect her, though I know it wouldn’t do any good.  Love pours from me, as the water empties from the sky.