Excerpt: Sammy's Book

It rained last night, and dogwood blossoms litter the sidewalk. Our front steps, concrete and uneven, have puddles in their depressions deep enough to drown in. My little brother sits on the old jacket covering the bottom step, herding worms away from their deaths.

It rained last night, and my shoes squish through the mud on my way to the backyard. Sammy left his shovel by the garden gnome yesterday, but Mom will be angry if he gets dirty this early in the morning. I am careful enough that I do not splatter my clothing with mud, so I will only have to clean off my shoes before going inside.

It rained last night, despite the weatherman's predictions. He is dating my mother, and he likes to tell Sammy and me just how unpredictable the weather can be - his job hazard, he likes to call it. I hope that he is wrong again tonight, because Sammy is much easier to deal with after a rain.

It rained last night, and my sweet younger brother is digging in the mud with his blue plastic shovel and a serious expression. He cares about the worms on the walk, worries that they'll be stepped on, so he tries to protect them by putting them back in the dirt where they live. His therapist says that it's just a phase and we should count our blessings that he hasn't yet discovered mudpies.

It rained last night, so this usually wild brother of mine is still and calm on the steps. My loud Sammy is quietly humming a soothing tune to his rescued worms. His easily distracted mind is focused on his task, and when he tires of humming, he begins to sing the alphabet to his wiggly friends.

It rained last night, and my brother seems almost like a normal little boy. I feel completely selfish for appreciating the wet day so much, but then Sammy looks up and smiles at me. I sit next to him, sharing the spare jacket, and wrap him up in a tight hug.

"Night rain," he says with a grin that shows off his missing front teeth. "Help Sammy?"

"Sure, kid," I tell him softly. "I'd love to help you save the worms."