The sky was heavy, grey, and ready to cry. The first drops of rain gently tapped on the old wooden roof of the porch, and Lala sat quietly, hugging her knees to her chest. Her eyes stared into the wet world outside, but her heart was far away—lost in a memory that would never fade.
It had been almost a year since Mom left. Not forever, but far enough that Lala couldn’t see her every day anymore. Work had taken Mom to another province, and now they only saw each other through screens and brief weekend visits. But today, the rain had brought everything back—vivid, emotional, and almost too much to bear.
Lala had always loved the rain—not because it was exciting or because it cooled the air, but because it reminded her of that day with Mom.
She closed her eyes, and the memory flowed in like a song.
It had been a stormy afternoon. The kind where thunder rolled like drums in the distance and the wind danced through the trees. Little Lala, just eight years old at the time, stood by the door watching puddles form in the yard. She was bored, cranky, and a little restless. But then Mom appeared with a wide smile and said, “Want to dance in the rain?”
Lala blinked in surprise. “Dance? Outside?”
Mom laughed. “Yes! Come on, it’s just water.”
Within seconds, Mom pulled Lala outside. They were barefoot, holding hands, and spinning in circles. The mud squished under their feet, and raindrops tickled their cheeks. The neighbors peeked out and shook their heads, but Lala and her mom didn’t care. They were in their own world.
They laughed until their sides hurt. Mom scooped Lala up, twirled her around, and sang silly songs that made no sense but felt like magic. The rain washed over them like nature’s blessing, soaking their clothes, their hair, and their worries. In that moment, Lala didn’t know anything about grown-up problems, goodbyes, or missing someone. All she knew was the sound of her mother’s laughter and the way her hand felt so warm, even in the cold rain.
Afterwards, they went inside, shivering and giggling. Mom wrapped them both in one big fluffy towel, and they sat by the window drinking warm cocoa. Lala remembered leaning on Mom’s shoulder, her eyelids heavy, heart full. She had never felt so loved.
A soft sigh escaped Lala’s lips as the memory faded. She looked down at her hands, now a little bigger than they were back then, and whispered, “I miss you, Mom.”
Grandma came over and sat beside her. She didn’t say anything at first, just offered a warm blanket and a gentle pat on the back.
“You thinking about her?” Grandma asked softly.
Lala nodded.
“I remember that day,” Grandma said, smiling faintly. “You two looked like a pair of joyful little ducks.”
That made Lala smile through her sadness. “She wasn’t afraid of getting dirty or wet.”
“No,” Grandma chuckled. “She wasn’t afraid of much at all. She just wanted to enjoy every little moment. Especially with you.”
Lala leaned against Grandma, tears welling up but not falling yet. “I thought she’d be back more often.”
“She wants to be. She works hard, sweetie. For you.”
“I know,” Lala said quietly. “But I still miss her.”
The rain got heavier. It drummed on the roof like a slow heartbeat, echoing the rhythm of Lala’s thoughts. Grandma handed her a small photo album—one that Mom had made before she left.
Lala opened it and flipped through the pages. Each photo told a story. Mom cooking breakfast with a messy apron. Mom brushing Lala’s hair and making funny faces in the mirror. Mom and Lala planting flowers in the backyard. And then there it was—a photo of the two of them soaked from the rain, hair stuck to their faces, both laughing like there was nothing else in the world.
She touched the photo gently, as if the warmth of Mom’s hug could pass through the paper.
Suddenly, an idea struck her. Without saying a word, she stood up, pulled off her socks, and stepped outside into the rain.
Grandma called after her, “Lala, you’ll catch a cold!”
But Lala turned back and smiled, “Just for a minute.”
She stood in the yard, arms wide open, letting the rain pour down her face. She twirled slowly, her eyes closed. The mud was cold and soft under her toes, and the wind whistled a familiar tune. She imagined Mom beside her, laughing, holding her hand again. She remembered the feeling of being twirled around, the sound of giggles blending with raindrops.
It wasn’t the same without Mom—but it still felt like she was there. Somewhere in the rain, in the wind, in the love that never left.
When Lala finally came back inside, dripping wet but smiling, Grandma was waiting with a towel.
“Feel better?” she asked.
Lala nodded. “Yeah. It felt like she was with me again.”
Later that night, Lala and Grandma sat together and called Mom. The video screen lit up with Mom’s bright smile. “Hi, my baby!”
Lala grinned. “Hi, Mom! It rained today.”
“I heard,” Mom said. “Did you stay dry?”
“Nope,” Lala laughed. “I went outside. Just like we used to.”
Mom’s eyes softened. “You remembered that day?”
“I remember everything,” Lala said. “I miss you a lot.”
“I miss you too,” Mom replied, her voice catching slightly. “But I’ll be home this weekend. Maybe… maybe we can dance in the rain again?”
Lala’s heart fluttered. “Promise?”
“Promise,” Mom said with a smile that made everything feel okay again.
That night, as Lala drifted off to sleep with the photo album by her side, the rain continued to fall gently outside. It no longer felt sad or heavy. Instead, it felt like a lullaby—one filled with good memories, unconditional love, and the sweet promise of more beautiful rainy days to come.
And though she still missed Mom, Lala knew one thing for sure—love never really leaves. It just lives quietly in the rain, the photos, the laughter, and the heart.
