My neighbor was an odd bird. I don’t mean that she was an actual bird, but there wasn’t much human to her either. She was constantly doing things that made me question her sanity. One time, I caught her talking to a rolly polly that she claimed was a relative of hers from a past life. Another time, she was digging holes in her backyard (the type that would get me grounded until my twentieth birthday!) that she explained were actually pictures she was drawing for aliens to see when they looked down at her house. I didn’t have the heart to explain to her that bugs were bugs and nothing else. I also didn’t want to burst her bubble by informing her that there was no proof that aliens existed and even if they did, they probably weren’t looking at her backyard, and even so, her pictures would be way too tiny to actually see from space. I just didn’t want to break her heart because she was always so happy being an oddball.

Questioning made me want to correct her. Correcting her made me feel guilty. What was I supposed to do?

I left her alone.

Let her wear mismatched socks and pigtails even though she was well on her way to being a teenager. Let her dig her holes and talk to bugs. What business was it of mine? As four wise men once said, “Let her be.”

This system of mine worked well for a while. I made it through seventh grade without allowing myself to ponder her actions. Whenever she did something weird, I just ignored her, thinking to myself, “Well, that’s just Libby.” Even when she showed up to the beginning of eighth grade carrying some weird book about a guy called Siddhartha, I didn’t ask.

However, there was one thing that I couldn’t ignore.

It happened for the first time during spring break. I had realized that without school, I hadn’t seen Libby in quite a while. It wasn’t that I missed her or something, it was just weird. After a week or so, I was almost getting worried about her. Normally she was running around all over the place acting like a spazzoid. I almost asked my mom about her when…there she was.

My friend James and I were supposed to go out and play baseball. I was all ready to go with my glove out and everything when the phone rang. James was on the other line.

“Sorry dude. It looks like the game’s off,” he said.

“What’d you mean?”

“There’s a complete downpour going on out there. No way we can play in this stuff. I’ll see ya later.”

James hung up and I walked to the window. The weatherman had said that it was going to be sunny. Great weather all weekend, he had claimed, flashing those brilliant white teeth of his.

Yup, it was pouring. I went to close the blinds again when something caught my eye.

While every kid this side of Polk county was sitting indoors moping the day away, there was Libby. It wasn’t that she was outside or anything. I wouldn’t put it past a madwoman like her to be running outside in a hurricane, but she was doing something I had never seen her do in my life.

She was sitting still.

My hyperactive neighbor was outside, sitting cross-legged on her front lawn, wearing absolutely no protective gear while the rain spilled from the sky and fell to Earth. Not only that, but she was looking straight up while water spattered onto her cheeks and eyes and mouth. It was probably even getting up her nose the way she was sitting! On top of that, she was smiling! I might have let it all go if it weren’t for that, but that’s just plain batty.

I tried to ignore her by watching some TV but after a half hour of cartoons, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to check on her. Weren’t chickens supposed to sometimes die because they would look straight into the sky whenever it rained causing them to drown? I couldn’t be responsible for that happening to Libby no matter how strange she was.

When I went to the window again, it was still raining and she was still there. Libby was on her lawn in the same place, still cross-legged, still soaking wet, still looking up, and still smiling.

That’s it, I decided. I had to go over there.

Like I said, I couldn’t be responsible for her drowning.

After putting on my galoshes and grabbing an umbrella, I walked across the yard to Libby’s. The grass was so soaked that I almost sank on my way over.

“Hey Libby,” I said when I was standing in front of her.

Slowly, her eyes opened as the grin on her face grew even wider.

“Hey Matt! Would you like to join me?”

That’s how she was. No “how’s it goin’?” or “what’s up?” just a friendly greeting followed by, “do you want to sit here with me and stare up into the rain like a madman, possibly drowning or at least catching pneumonia?”

“Uh…no.”

I have to give it to her. She looked so darn happy sitting there in her swamped yard completely drenched. I almost wanted to join her. She would make a great cult leader someday.

“Oh,” she replied and shut her eyes before returning to her position, soaking up the moisture like a daisy catching some rays

Maybe she was an alien and she had been writing messages to those on her home planet when she was digging around in her backyard.

“Actually, Libby, I came over here to check on you. You all right?”

“Yep, just peachy,” she replied without flinching.

“Well, don’t you think you should go inside?”

“Nope.”

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to ask.

“What are you doing anyway?”

“I’m making contact with God.”

That’s it…she was a cult leader. Next thing I knew she was going to be asking me to taste the Kool-aid.

“Seriously, Libby.”

“Seriously, Matt. You should take a seat.”

No way crazy lady.

“What do you mean you’re making contact with God? Why don’t you go pray or whatever inside?”

She looked as me as though I had said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

“I’m not praying silly.”

She looked back up and I was left totally confused.

“Okay…then what are you doing…exactly.”

Libby sighed and then looked back at me with a serious expression on her face.

“Well…It’s raining, right?”

“Uh…Yea.”

“When it rains, water vapor is forming itself into droplets which then fall to Earth, right?”

I had been in science class that week too. I nodded.

“Well, for that to work, the water needs something to form around,” She explained.

I didn’t remember that part from class, but I nodded anyway.

“So…what do you think is floating around up there in space for water to form around?”

“I dunno…” I scratched my head a bit.

“Dust particles.”

“Okay.”

“So that’s what I’m catching from the rain.”

I stared at her while she returned to her comfortable, daisy-like state.

“So you’re…catching space dust?”

“Yup!”

I couldn’t fathom why so I had to ask again. My policy of no questions was slowly falling to bits.

“Why?”

“Well, if we’re here on Earth, that means God’s gotta be out there. If there’s dust out there, it’s gotta

come from somewhere. So…if this is space dust, it means it’s like…parts of God. I’m just trying to catch some of it.”

Libby returned to ignoring me and smiling as she looked up at the sky. I couldn’t help it. She looked so peaceful there.

I took down the umbrella and moved next to her. I shut my eyes and tilted my head towards the sky.

I allowed the rain to wash over me and tried to feel the presence of God.

What I felt was water seeping into my nostrils causing me to choke.

The umbrella was swiftly returned to its position over my head and I stomped across the lawn and back inside to the comfort of being under a roof, with a television in front of me and a bag of chips in my lap. I couldn’t help but check on her again when the rain had stopped. She was no longer there.

Who else would sit outside in the rain only to return when the sun comes out?

Like I said…odd bird.