I noticed today as I drove home that the sky became just ... wrong ... over the river. If I had painted that sky, I would have corrected it. There were white glossy patches on top of back-lit dark blotches.
"Creepy" I thought. "Maybe I can get home before it rains." And, typical of me, "I can get in and out of the store before it starts, I don't need an umbrella."
And I could have done it, too. As I raced through the cereal aisle a mom had to warn her child to get out of my way. The little girl did, and I slowed down to say "Thank you" to her. The mom said "Good Manners" in a very approving way. Of course, I assumed she was directing that at me. I suppose she could have been approving the way her child politely got out of my way.
And that, really, is irrelevant, because I had noticed a child and connected on a small degree. Yay, me. When I was almost out the door I recognized the same little girl at the service desk ahead repeating, "Ter-matoes. There will be ter-matoes."
I thought she meant tomatoes and she was Teeny Tiny Cassandra warning them about salmonella. Then I realized she was warning them about Tornadoes. I stopped next to her.
"I believe you," I said. "It looks really bad outside."
"No," she replied intently. "It will just rain, that's all."
Crack. And the downpour started.
I was drenched through to my granny panties by the time I got to my car. And as I waded through the gulleywasher, I wondered, when did moms stop teaching their children to avoid strangers?