to as. The Haitians called it the Devil’s rain. She didn’t know for certain why but thought it had something to do with the mystery of it all. How could the sun be present as rain fell? It had to be a miracle or one or nature’s great jokes, or perhaps it was the Devil’s work. But she didn’t believe in the Devil or anything of that grand mystical scale. Yet, she pondered the possibility. Perhaps the rain represented darkness while the sun represented light. They say the Devil is a fallen Angel, perhaps that imagery is what the Haitians were referring to, or perhaps not. Who knew? There was a sort of
beauty in not knowing for certain. A delightful mystery she wasn’t in the mood to explore further for the time being. Perhaps she’d do the research someday, but for now, the blissful ignorance and the scent of the rain were enough.