Please Come Back Another Day

Response to prompt #35, Write as Rain 

Rain, rain go away, 
come again another day...

I know the children who sing this catchy ditty don't mean to hurt my feelings.

But they do. And they have for centuries.

Their mothers guard them against me, like I'm liquid poison falling from the sky. They wrap them in plastic rain ponchos, force galoshes over their feet, shield them with rainbow colored umbrellas, scold them when they jump in the puddles I leave for their enjoyment.

I want to scream, "Mothers! Let those children puddle jump! Can't you see how much fun they are having?"

If only I had a voice--one they could hear anyway.

It's so disheartening to see their little faces pressed up against the front windows of their home, wistfully staring through the glass, trying to catch glimpses of the sun, evidence that I am about to indeed go away and stop ruining their fun.

The other day, one of those children snuck outside when I came to visit. She was different. Difficult, the mothers cluck. A rebel.

She quietly closed the front door behind her and gingerly tip toed down the stairs of her front porch, hesitating on the last step, looking up at the edge of the awning keeping her dry. She sighed as she turned her glance toward the door.

Please don't turn back, I begged.

Her head snapped forward again. Did she actually hear me?

Then, a wide, toothy smile spread over her chubby little face. I believe I detected mischievousness in that grin. She leapt off the the concrete and ran right to the middle of the yard. As she lifted her face toward the sky to greet me, she closed her eyes, her impish smile turning into one of sheer delight. She lifted her arms straight out, palms facing up, and began spinning.

She kept spinning as I showered her with my gentle kisses, both of us in a state of sheer bliss. She was free from the constraints of ridiculous adult rules; I was freed from my loneliness. I drenched her brown hair, but she didn't care that it matted to her face. Her yellow sundress clung to her small frame, yet she still danced.


"Katrina Marie!" her mother yelled from the front door, breaking the spell. "Get back in the house this instant! You are such a naughty, naughty girl!"

She stopped in her tracks and hung her head. "I'm in for it," she whispered. "But, it was worth it."

Sighing, she trudged back toward her angry mother, perched at the open door with a towel. When she reached the door, her mother dried her off violently, as if she had to wipe the wickedness off of her before allowing her into the house.

Just as she stepped back inside, she turned, longing taking over her countenance. "Please come back another day."

As she blew a kiss, her mother gave her a confused look.

I knew the kiss was meant for me.

I will come back another day, Katrina. Just for you.