The pitter-patter of soft rain on the roof immediately puts a smile on my face. 

As I run to the back door, I’m reminded of the color green, of lush evergreen trees that are covered in the morning dew. 

The muddy puddles that smell like a vast, salty ocean. 

The rain calls upon many memories from my past, good and bad.

Every time I hear the rain, I think of splashing outside in the puddles,

running with my dogs to see who can reach the door first, 

cuddling up in a blanket by the window with the smell of fresh chicken noodle soup that my mom cooked for me.

All these specific memories come from just one thing:

The pitter-patter of soft rain on the roof.