Mitch is currently at a park four blocks from our house, enjoying the crisp autumn air and clearing his little homework-cluttered head. The sun is shining, the sky a pure, unblemished blue, and I’m at home with the heat on high, preparing to roast sweet potatoes for Thanksgiving Deux, which takes place at my aunt and uncle’s house this evening.
Bright autumn sunlight is streaming in through my windows.
A moment ago, however, Mitch called from the park to ask an odd question: “Is it raining over there?” This is the sort of question that would make slightly more sense if it were my brother, calling from Seattle to gauge driving conditions, or if it were Mitch’s mom, calling from Arizona to compare weather forecasts.
But the odd reason for Mitch’s odd question is the fact that there is one small cloud in the sky, hovering directly over him as he walks, raining. It’s a nice little wispy white cloud, he says, but still – it’s raining.
Apparently, he has his very own rain cloud trailing him as he walks.