|sisters in the rain, circa 1986|
I clutched my furry white blanket (named "Munkit") close to my chest. I was cozy in my fuzzy turquoise sleeper as my nose pressed against the cold glass of the screen door. Thunder rumbled and crashed, and wind whistled through the rattling door, but I wasn't scared. Big rain drops pounded on the concrete steps outside and lightening flashed again and again, illuminating the darkness of the neighbourhood. I was alone in the doorway, but I was safe.
I was probably less than two years old. Is it any wonder that I still love rain and thunderstorms?
What is your first memory?