Listening to the rain

My grandparents had a summer house next to the

Oslofjord. It was fairly primitive and small, but it

always had place for the enlarged family to meet.

I remember one summer when I was twelve that

only my grandmother and I stayed there alone.

She thought she was looking after me, and I knew I

was looking after her. :-)

Just now it is ten at night, still some light outside, and

I opened the window to get some fresh air.

It turned out it was raining outside.

The sound of this summer rain brought me straight

back to that summerhouse of my childhood.

I remember that when it rained, I would stay in my bed

up in the attic, reading old magazines my aunts had brought,

and hear the same sound of rain in the background and

feel the same moist smell of Norwegian summer

like I do just now.