It's not so much rain...

It's not so much rain, but the memory of it, the steady but inconsequential drizzle of rain a vague threat that the deluge may well return.

The road beneath is slick and there are little puddles along the curbs and I can see rubber bands floating here and there. (People opening their morning paper and watching the little bands pop and sail down onto the road.)

I've got a cloudy sky above, a cold wind in my face and my hair is slowly getting drenched. Judd and Maggie are in my ears, with that great line for fathers...

I used to paint pictures, now I only paint walls.

It's a Saturday in Maryland and all is well.