Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
I think about you when it rains.
Everytime I hear the soft, almost tuneful plop plop of raindrops on my foggy window, I remember the little girl in wellington boots who loved splashing about in puddles, spinning her umbrella around in the sky.
I think of her bedraggled hair and her grin and her cheeks wet with rain. I think about her mists of breath fogging up the glass panes of the car windows as she watches the bushes and trees speed by.
I remember her sweet voice, humming (slightly out of tune) "My Favourite Things" from the sound of music and her struggles to remember all the lyrics. I remember her tinkling laughter, like the sound of bells, when she tries running from the murky stormclouds in the sky, but ends up failing miserably.
When I look in the mirror, I can see her looking right back at me. I can see her in my eyes. I know she's still there inside me, no matter what.