A wet garden

It rained all evening last night, and this morning I stepped outside to find a very wet garden. The maple and dogwood trees were drooping under the weight of water. The damp earth yielded quietly under my feet. Everything felt softened, even the bittersweet feeling that had filled me on this morning of my birthday. I recalled a song I used to know as a child. The lyrics went something like this: "Rain and tears are the same, when you cry in the winter time, you can pretend it's nothing but the rain."

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