I walked across our street without an umbrella, the soft drizzle making tiny dots on my long-sleeved shirt.
The chilly dawn presages into what will be a rainy morning.

The street was empty save for an elderly woman holding up an umbrella while the other hand clutching a brown bag containing hot pandesal (salted bread). As she walked past me the distinct smell of the bread whizzed past my nose. I was suddenly hungry. There were no drunken men sleeping on the benches, no tsismosas drinking coffee at Aling Nita’s carinderia starting their day with the latest juicy news about another neighbor. There were no dogs lying around and the street is not littered with dog poops. I smiled as I lazily walked across the small puddles of water, while taking in deep breaths savoring the crisp smell of wet leaves and the chilly air.

Save for frequent flooding and traffic I do love rainy days.