It’s raining tonight.

I got home from the SGC late after finally, mercifully, completing a mountain of paperwork. The roads were slick on the way home so I drove slowly, watching the windshield wipers go back and forth, back and forth in an endless cycle, with raindrops hitting the glass more quickly than the wipers could carry away the water.

The house was dark and cold when I pulled up in the driveway; this is one of the things I hate most about living alone, this coming home to an empty house. I guess it just makes it harder, the fact that I can remember brightly lit windows and supper waiting on the table and a small pair of arms thrown around my neck in a welcoming hug.

Charlie loved rain.

Even as a toddler, he didn’t seem scared of storms. I remember seeing him sit with his chubby face pressed against the window, transfixed by the lightning show going on outside.

Halfway to the house, other memories came, and I stopped, not feeling the cold raindrops soaking through my clothes, running down the back of my neck.

[Charlie coming in from outside, muddy and dripping wet from head to toe, smiling his adorable but slightly guilty smile, knowing his mom would be mad but having had too much fun to care. Sara let him by with it that time, too - I remember her fond but slightly exasperated laugh, her hand on his muddy shoulder as she led him off toward the shower.]

[Charlie tugging on my hand - “Dad, come on, let’s go out!”

“I know!” Brown eyes sparkling, little-boy smile. “That’s the best time!”]

I went with him, finally, and we both got soaked to the skin and Charlie came down with a cold and Sara lectured me for letting him go out in the rain, but I’m glad now that I did, remembering the way he looked up toward the sky, closed his eyes, and stood enraptured as the raindrops fell on his face.

A raindrop splashed into my eye, bringing me back to the present, making me realize I had unconsciously turned my face up just like Charlie had so long ago. Water drops slid down my cheeks like the tears I don’t cry any more, and my breath fogged around my face when I whispered, “Damn it, Charlie, I miss you.”

And just for an instant, just before I went inside, a tiny warm breeze caressed my face, almost like Charlie’s hand reaching out to touch me, almost like Charlie’s breath on my cheek saying It’s okay, Dad; I’m still here.