puddled water

It rains pretty spontaneously here. (This may be due, in part, to the fact that I never check the weather or that I moved here from a desert.)

I've been caught in sudden downpours on multiple occasions.
I've loved it each time.
It reminds me of when I was younger and my friends and I would go puddle stomping during the warm summer rains. We didn't care about lightening, except to count the seconds between the night-severing flash and the clap of thunder that always followed. 1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . .. Three miles away. The best storms, the ones that left me with every bit of clothing clinging to my body and my sodden hair stuck to my neck for once in the humid climate, usually resulted in the power going out. It didn't matter. Our weak window unit ac was no match for the sticky moisture that masqueraded as air. The only difference was that mom wouldn't let us go into the fridge. "The food will spoil." So we'd turn on flashlights and light candles and read or play games, missing television, although now I'm glad it was gone those few nights. Falling asleep, somewhat restlessly to the sound of cars, ambulances, firetrucks rushing by outside our window, creating waves of water from the lakes of puddles.

It's rained yesterday. I heard a police car or maybe an ambulance and the swish splash shhh of puddled water.