When I was little, I used to love the rain. I would take my rabbit and prepare for her a nest of sorts on my bedroom windowsill made of old moth eaten blankets nobody wanted, then pull up a chair and open the window as wide as it would go. The water and the thunder and the lightning would come and put a smile on my lips. I would lay my head down in the midst of my rabbits fur and breathe in a mixture of nature and warm.
