Rain, a Chevy, and Youth.

I'm posting for 60 days straight, leading up to my early December birthday, and I'm making the time to write on behalf of slain UCC Professor and aspiring novelist, Larry Levine.

When I was a boy my parents and I often traveled from our suburban Atlanta home to northern Virginia, to visit their parents, my grandparents. As an only child, I had the entire backseat to myself and would read the miles away, solving mysteries with The Hardy Boys or The Three Investigators. 

I remember being snuggled under a blanket, reading away, as we'd drive through Summer thunderstorms or Fall rain showers. I'll never forget the sound of drops dancing on our blue Chevy Impala's roof. While I'm sure the downpours were stressful for whichever parent was driving, I felt nothing but security and contentment. As if the rain was an added layer of protection enveloping the car as we cruised along.

For the first time in months – perhaps even a year – I woke to that comforting, nourishing sound this morning. Rain visited my neck of the Bay Area, and while she only stayed for a few hours, I sincerely appreciated the visit and nostalgic trip down the highways of my youth.

Photo: solarisgirl on Flickr

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