by Michael Mayes

Created on: March 11, 2009

The Girl In The Rai

The rain finally came today. Not much, mind you, but enough to raise everyone's spirits. Rainfall has been rare in my part of Texas lately. We haven't had any significant precipitation for four months now. There was enough rain to soften up the baked soil of my yard and make walking barefoot through the St. Augustine grass without pain possible. There was also enough rain to get water flowing steadily down the sides of the streets to waiting storm drains. I stood at the end of my driveway and watched the water rush by carrying all manner of tiny debris. As I watched, I couldn't help but think back to the last time it rained enough to get water moving like that.

I was in a hurry. I was also mad at myself. I should have taken care of this the day before but didn't. Now, because of my procrastination, I had to go out in the pouring rain. I only had 30 minutes for lunch and really didn't have time to run an errand and still manage to eat something before my next class. I was on my way to a mailbox stationed in the parking lot of what was once a small shopping center a few blocks from my campus. The shopping center had been closed for as long as I could remember but the mailbox remained. It seemed to be the only thing still alive in this neighborhood full of rundown trailers and boarded up buildings covered in spray painted gang signs. The scheduled pick-up time for this mailbox was 2:00 p.m., and I needed to get my utility payment on the road immediately in order to avoid a late fee. If all went well, I could get the bill mailed and still make it back to school in time to wolf down a sandwich.

I managed to get my utility payment dropped in the box without incident. However, on my way back to school I found myself stuck behind an ancient van that was belching an inordinate amount of noxious black smoke. As the van pulled up to a stop sign, it died. The driver tried to get it started several times without success. I groaned as I saw the driver hop out of the van and pop the hood. As I prepared to pull around the van, I looked to my left and saw a young girl sitting on the curb. She looked to be nine or ten years old, about the age of my youngest daughter. The girl was a bit scruffy looking, but seemed to be happy enough there on the curb, splashing her feet in the water that flowed along the edge of the street. "I wonder why she isn't in school? What is she doing out in this rain?" I remember thinking. It was at that precise moment the little girl

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