Traveling with family is soggy business.
It can refresh like spring shower. Urge forth blossoms and such.
More likely, it saturates.
The days drench you, and by nightfall, you’re ready to be wrung our because the weight of their water is so pervasive.
It’s ungrateful and selfish.
But it’s as real as the rain that keeps all of you in the room.
Because the stress of urban navigation and a morning of nostalgia and stairs wasn’t bonding enough.
Backwards, down into it,
With the teen who isn’t
And the grandmother who won’t.
In front but not in charge
SO GET OFF MY BACK!
I’ll figure it out.
Let me try again.
Why won’t it stop raining?