Kathryn Nicolai

It had been a mechanic's shop when I was a child, and it still had its garage doors, which were slid open today, where cars waiting to be worked on had been parked years ago.

The pavement was replaced with soft ground cover and pavers.

Two small trees were growing up on either side of the yard, and their branches were full of birdhouses and wind chimes.

Inside the old shop,

A very faint scent of car oil and tools lingered.

And I remembered standing in the same spot years and years before, holding my mom's hand while she dropped off the keys to our car for an oil change.

I hadn't minded tagging along for the errand, even as a little kid, knowing that the half hour while we waited would almost certainly involve a trip to the ice cream shop in the next block.

As I stood reminiscing, looking at the bird baths and garden statues,

I heard the wind chimes outside begin to ring.

There must have been a dozen of them playing in the wind.

And I gripped tighter the handle of my umbrella, knowing what it must mean.

The April showers were coming any minute now.

I stepped back out onto the street and turned toward the cafe, thinking that if it were going to rain, I'd love the armchair by their big front window and a cup of something hot to enjoy while it did.

I'd made it back up to the main street when the first drops began to fall.

After months of snowflakes, the sound of the rain actually made me laugh.

I'd forgotten it.

I let it fall on my face and my outstretched hand for a moment.

then opened my beautiful umbrella and swung it up over my head.

The outside of this umbrella was classic black fabric, nothing that would make you guess what was hidden inside.

I looked up into it, standing there on the corner, and smiled.