The air smelled of summer rain. Funny, the places an aroma can send you. Some of those places I'd rather not visit again. No, not here, not now.

My bedroom window is open, beckoning the scent of summer rain to fill the room. I hear scary noises and crying coming from outside my door. I try to concentrate on the melodic orchestra drizzling on outside my window, but the noises are dissonant instruments played by inexperienced musicians trying their best to blend in.

I push away my Superman-themed sheets and climb to the floor. I open the door, afraid of what I will find and sigh in relief as I see the two people that love me most standing in the hallway. But I catch my breath. Crimson tears stream down my mother's face. My father's hand is clenched. "What is he holding?" They stare at me in silence, and I suddenly understand that this is my fault.

Tiny wet assailants tickle my face, and I awaken from this cruel spell of remembrance. I roll up my car window and look over to my sleeping son in the passenger seat. He sighs contently as we drive through the summer rain.