Dear Rain

Dear Rain,

I thought I was clear the other day when I broke up with you, but apparently, you didn't get the message. When I said we could hang out once a week or so, I didn't mean right away. I meant give me a few weeks to compose myself, and then we could see where we stand.

You must be familiar with the expression "Into each life a little rain must fall." You missed the part about "a little," not a lot. I'll admit you did a lovely job with our neighbor's rhododendrons. They are spectacular.

(Sorry the focus is a little off. It was raining when I took the picture this morning.)

You did a great job with the rhodies, but look at what you did to the other flowering trees. You worked so hard to give them gorgeous blooms, and then you knock them all off like a preschooler who builds a cool Lego set and then smashes it five minutes later.

Don't think there is sunshine in the background. A streetlight is reflecting off the wet pavement, creating the illusion that there is sunshine there. If you need further proof, you can the headlights of the car in the background also reflecting off the wet pavement. Cars that drive in sunshine don't need headlights.

And when you leave, take the clouds with you. They need to go, too.

Sincerely,
Lauren

Dear Rain

Dear Rain,

I want to start seeing other weather. It isn't you. It's me. Thank you so much for the awesome cherry blossoms this spring. They were awesome, but it is time for us to go our own ways. I am feeling suffocated by your daily presence and could use a little space, like 'til November. Breaking the 122-inch record this year is something to be proud of, but do you need to be such an overachiever? We certainly don't need to go back to 2005 when you skipped winter entirely. That wasn't cool, either. There are times when being average is good. Think about that in the future.

We can still be friends, maybe see each other once a week or so. In the meantime, if you see the sun, let him know I am available.

All the best,
Lauren