I always think of Sabrina when it rains. It was raining up in Napa, and Mike picked me up in his truck. He had Sabrina in her carseat, she was about 2, blonde curly hair all around her face.
I got in on the driver side of the truck, which made Sabrina think I was driving and she started to cry and say "No, Daddy drive!"
She certainly wasn't as thrilled to see me as I was to see her, but it was like that for a few years. Anyway, I was sandwiched in the middle of Mike and Sabrina, and she was giving me the once-over. Then she looked at me, with her pacifier in her mouth, and said "S'raining." in a real matter-of-fact tone. Then she looked down at her painted nails and said, "Polish".
I didn't get to see her often because she was born the year after I moved down here, but when I went home I couldn't get enough of her (still can't) and I wanted so desperately for her to know me and remember me whenever we saw each other. I was always amazed by her, the things she said and the way she said them (it was raining, and she was just
lettin' me know).