Sandra Ulbrich Almazan
Copyright © 2012 Sandra Ulbrich Almazan
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I’m the only one in this town who hates the silver rain.
Every spring, there’s a stretch of a week or ten days where the rain comes down silver with illusion. It doesn’t just wash our town; it transforms it. Cottages become palaces, twigs turn into giant oaks, and crows look like peacocks. Only people are untouched. Travelers come from miles around, even from other countries, to experience it. My bakery makes more that week than it does any other month of the year.
A pity I can’t enjoy the visions of the silver rain. To me, the town seems to be the same whether it rains or not. My father could never tell red from green, but other than needing us to help him match his clothes, his color blindness didn’t affect his life. I have to keep my mouth shut when tourists come in, exclaiming about the illusions and congratulating me on my good fortune to see the silver rain every year.
The silver rain brought me love, then washed it away.