My friend Anne sent this to me and I had to share it. It’s an excerpt from a short story by Patricia Hampl.

First body memory – rainwater sluicing down my tadpole self with fabulous force from a drainpipe at the side of my grandmother’s house in St. Paul, theatrical thunderclaps and lightning jags above me. “Stop that screeching this minute!” my mother called from the kitchen. “You sound like you’re being murdered out there.” But you can’t silence delight – I kept screaming and the gorgeous cold water kept gushing.