The Rain Race on the Window

It rains on Sunday, and Rafi is bored. His mother is at work. His father is asleep on the couch. His little sister Sana sits on the floor. She has a toy horse. Rafi has no homework. He has no friends at the door. He cannot go to the park. He looks out the window and sighs.

Raindrops run down the glass. Some are fast. Some are slow. Some stop for a second and then go again. "Sana," he says.

"Come here." She walks to the window with her horse. She is five years old. She has two small braids and a very serious face.

"Look at the drops," says Rafi.

"They race."

"They do not race," says Sana.

"They fall."

"Pick one," he says.

"I pick the big one at the top." Sana thinks for a long time. Then she points at a tiny drop near the corner.

"That one," she says.

"It is too small," says Rafi.

"It will lose."

"No," says Sana.

"It is fast."

They put their fingers on the glass. Rafi says, "One, two, three, go!" Both drops start to move. The big drop runs down in a straight line. The small drop turns and stops. It starts again.

"I win," says Rafi.

"Wait," says Sana.

The big drop reaches a dust spot on the glass. It stops. It shakes, and it cannot move. The small drop runs past it and reaches the bottom. "I win!" Sana shouts. She jumps up and down. Her horse flies through the air.

"Shh," says Rafi.

"Dad is asleep."

"My drop is the best," Sana says. It is a loud whisper. "One more race," says Rafi.

They race again, and again. They give the drops names. The big one is Thunder. The small one is Pepper. A third one, with a long tail, is the Snake. Sana likes the Snake the most. She says it is a friend of her horse.

After ten races, Rafi has an idea. He gets a pen and a piece of paper. He draws a line down the middle. On one side he writes his name. On the other side he writes Sana's name. "We keep score," he says.

"What is score?" Sana asks.

"A number for winning," he says.

She counts on her fingers. "I have three. You have four."

"No, you have four," says Rafi.

"I made a mistake."

"You let me win," says Sana. Rafi looks at the paper. It is true, and he is a little embarrassed.

"A little," he says.

"Do you mind?"

"No," she says.

"But next time, do not."

The rain gets harder. The drops run faster. Sana makes a new rule. The winner never stops on the way. Rafi tells her that is a very good rule. She nods like a small teacher. Their father wakes up. He walks into the room with his hair standing up. "What is this noise?" he asks.

"We race the rain," says Sana.

"Who wins?"

"I am," she says.

"Rafi lets me win." Their father sits down on the floor next to them. His knees crack. He looks at the window. He looks at the paper.

"May I play?" he asks.

"You need a drop," says Rafi.

Their father looks for a long time. He picks a drop near the middle. It is round and clear. "This one," he says.

"I call him Dad."

"Dad is slow," says Sana.

"Dad is careful," says their father.

They put their fingers on the glass. Rafi counts down. Three drops run, and a fourth, and a fifth. The room is full of noise. Their father laughs. Sana shouts. Rafi forgets that he was bored. Dad loses the first race. He loses the second race too. By the evening, he has no points at all.

"I am a bad drop," he says.

"You are a very bad drop," says Sana kindly. When their mother comes home, the rain is soft. She opens the door. Three people stand at the window. Nobody turns around.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"Shh," says Rafi.

"The last race."