I wish it was raining.
I wish there was the tapdance of droplets on the window panes and the chase of beads across the glass.
I wish there was the sluice of water on streets and the noisome heat held in the chest by a good coat and a sense of adventure.
I wish I was in the woods.
The smell of wet wood battling with the rot.
Pine and Mud.
Water and Blood.
I wish I was out in the midst of it all — feet wet, collar damp, water trickling down my cheeks feeling wholly and completely alive.
But I’m here.
Wishing for the rain.
And staring out the window.