Early Memory 3

It was raining, and dark.  But I had an umbrella that I desperately wanted to use.  I must have been eight or so.  It was pink, my umbrella.  It had a little sphere on the tip of it, in the middle of the canopy.  The outer part of the canopy was ruffles.  It had a curved handle.  It was wonderful and it was mine.  I danced in my driveway.  I sang "Singin' in the Rain" as I twirled about.  I gave umbrella rides to the ants that passed my way.  They took turns climbing on as I turned my umbrella upside down for them.  I gently spun them around and gave them lovely carousel joyrides.  I miss my pretty, pink umbrella; perhaps I miss the girl who owned that pretty pink umbrella.