My dog and I run through the rain, down the street I grew up on. Our feet are the loudest sound. I’m carrying a bag full of crab shells to dispose of in the garbage can at the end of the road, by the community mailbox. A family sees me do it and I imagine how peculiar I must look.
On the way back I’m taking big sniffs, the kind that are like gulping, and I’m running and lifting my chin as far into the rain as it will go. Every time I smell that soft earth rain smell, it feels like nothing has ever smelled so good and never will again.