The girl in the rain

I first saw her on my way to school, a small figure in the pouring rain. Unlike the others that were running for cover, she stood there, face upturned to the rain. I was perplexed but I walked on. The next time I saw her was on my way back from uni some five years later, but I'm sure it was the same little girl. She hadn't changed from five years back. Her stature was still very much the same, as if she'd grown little or nothing at all. It was raining again on that day. She stood outside my apartment block, this time wearing a bright red raincoat. Her hands stretched upwards as if to catch the falling rain. I directed her to a sheltered bench and pressed a cup of hot chocolate into her hands. She remained silent the entire time, didn't answer any of my questions, but underneath her bright red hood, I thought I caught a hint of a smile. The next time I saw her was at my wedding two years later. She still wore her red raincoat, but in her arms was a bouquet of white daisies. A year after that, I gave birth to my first child, a sweet little girl we named Isla. She was bright, cheerful, in every way the most perfect little girl we could have. But our happiness was not to last. On a rainy day six years later, a truck lost control on the slippery road and hit a child walking on the sidewalk. It was that fast. Isla never smiled again.. I still remember how the red of her raincoat seemed to conceal her broken, bloody body. As I knelt at her gravestone a month later, rain pouring down around me, I saw her for the last time. She stepped out from the shadows of a nearby tree, and walked towards me, handed me the bouquet of daisies. "Mama" she whispered. “Goodbye.”