To watch the shower move down the length of the street, and continue, made me aware the gift given to me was stepping outside just then to witness the rain darkening the asphalt, to observe the line between wet and dry diminish until the rain reached me, and in its wake, to inhale the olfactory stimulant of ionized air. That such a natural event inspires a child’s laughter and distinguishes itself as a perfect oxymoron, is testimony to its definition, especially after I return inside, to savor prismed raindrops beading the lenses of my glasses.