The rain fell for the past two days and it was nice. The chill cold air came rushing on in and I got to see my breath again. I like the cold. I like trying to get warm from it. Burrito-ing myself in the stack of blankets, burning my tongue on hot drinks, and pulling on layers of clothes to just peel off later. The beginning of the rain started at the parade with little droplets that kissed my face. They fell from the sky in the evening. We all sat on the side of the road watching as marchers, greeters, wavers of the crowd came singling on through the hoards of all of us. We saw dragons, and pink ladies, and “Merry Christmas” everywhere. The sound of the drums rumbled in my chest… Oh how I love that feeling. I woke this morning to find the rain was still here. There’s something comforting about listening to it. It could be a torrential downpour outside my window or a light pattering on the top of my tent and whatever it is makes me want to burrow my head deeper into my pillow- the land of dreams. The rain slows things down. It washes the dirt away, and consoles me, even if it grows bitter outside.