California felt good to me, even in the rain. It came down hard that first night. “We needed this storm”. My parents sounded so relieved. Finally there were signs of life in the back yard. The brown grass, green again. Our lemon tree hanging low, heavy with fruit. My mom had already filled the glass bowl with the ones begging to go. She added them to her salads and dressings. I liked the way they looked on the kitchen table. Like little drops of sunlight. They smelled like summer too. Reminded me of when I used to spend half the day reading on the wooden bench. Glued to my book in our front yard until it was time to go. We used to rub lemon wedges in our hair, hoping to catch some of the light in our strands. Mine never turned as blonde I wanted. The trying was fun though. Something to do while my brother caught his last few waves. We had to force him out of the water most days. His wetsuit left a trail of salt water back to the house. Rinsing the sand off of our ankles at the top of the hill. I’d take inventory of my skin. All of it a ritual. Checking for signs of the sun’s influence. They say it’s supposed to storm again this week. It started up a little last night, right as we were leaving dinner by the pier. I drove slowly while the rain came down. Trying to stretch the last few minutes of the last few hours I suppose. Were we really going to let another year fall between us? I was hoping for a break in the drought.
