It was August, 1947 in Paris. The summer heat had been relentless. Weeks and weeks went by without even a drop of rain or a cloud in the sky. The pavement was so hot you could feel the heat through your shoes. The usual friendly smiles on the faces of passers by gave way to frowns.
My friend, Julia and I were walking to the park to eat our lunch under the shade of a large oak tree, as we did everyday, when the sky became gray. As we continued to watch, the clouds opened up and rain began to fall. First it fell in tiny drops, then large drops that splashed when they hit you. Rain, glorious rain. We left our seat and stepped out with many other people to feel the cool rain on our faces. We didn't mind getting wet, it felt like little needles hitting our skin. We even opened our mouths to feel the cool drops on our tongue. It was delicious! Men began to take off their shirts and shoes and let the cool rain drench them. It was so funny, no one hurried to get out of rain, but walked slowly to enjoy it. Above the sound of the rain was laughter. Smiles had once again returned to people and strangers began to speak to each other like life long friends.
That was a long time ago, but I am reminded of it every time it rains. Stepping into the rain takes me back to that day in Paris and brings a smile to my face.