It's raining again.

There's just the hint of a sprinkle outside. It's warm and damp. The ground smells sweet. It still gives off faint traces of the heat of the day. That hot, dirty smell of moisture on asphalt and sidewalk and soil. It's only when I feel the tiny droplets on my upturned face that I realize how much I have longed for it.

In the mirror on my desk, I can see my face, dewy with humidity, flush with late summer heat. Hair tucked behind my ears, I look like I did when I was a child. Shiny, pink cheeks often sore from laughing. Freckles across the nose. That outdoor smell in my hair. The recent memory of climbing trees. The taste of rain on my tongue.

Last night, I saw stars in the night sky above West Hollywood. Stars in L.A., you ask? You bet.