It's rainy out tonight. There's even thunder and a wee bit of lightning. Mostly just rain, though. And I don't know if it's because of second month syndrome and everything, especially now, makes me think of France-- or if it's just that the rain always makes me think of Toulouse, but think of it I do.

Mostly I think of the onset of winter in that southern climate- where cold was 40 degrees F with wind and especially rain- all for either three, six or nine days. That unchanging of multiples of three- that cycle that became a rhythm, even for this midwestern kid.

Mostly, writing to this listening to the rain on my multiple windows, I think of those blustery nights with the rain sounding on my third floor bedroom skylight. I was unconventional within that French household and left the shade open on mine. I loved the starlight and moonshine pouring in on clear nights; the staccato rhythms of rain on it as winter creeped in alongside the ending of my journey.

The rain never fails to remind me of that skylight; to draw up that desire to have one again someday, so I can always sleep under the stars and remember how those three months brought back to me the joy of living, after that hellish deviation we call college.