Yesterday I heard the rain give in to the storm. It crashed through the town and flooded the creek. When we were younger, everyone told us to stay away from it because a boy our age drowned that same summer. I didn’t even know him, but I haven’t been the same ever since. There’s something in the water and it’s not your tears. Watch the storm water race downhill for the fight: It’s thunder against lightening. It’s rainwater against already established bodies of water. It’s the sun against the moon. Either way, I hope drowning is peaceful. Hope it feels like being carried to sleep.

Later that summer we sneaked past the bridge to watch the creek fill. I told you I was afraid and you said that I was supposed to be. Tried to light a match but the rain was too heavy. Always too heavy. Carrying the rain always feel to heavy, especially when you’re in the middle of the storm.