“Rain, rain, go away, come again another day.”

And what day would that be?

Well, not tomorrow because Jasper has a water polo match. I don’t want to get soaked while I’m cheering him on. And not the day after because it’s a long trek from the street up to Diane’s house, where I’m going for lunch. Rain can be inconvenient. I don’t much like it.

With kids, it’s different. What small child isn’t fascinated with jumping in puddles — or playing out in the rain in shorts and a T-shirt? I remember once, when I was about 10, sitting on the front porch wrapped in a blanket, no less, taking refuge from a summer rain, when I saw my mother walking down the street with a smile on her face, carrying her shoes.

When I was young, I didn’t have any rain gear like yellow rubber boots or a raincoat. I’m not even sure I had an umbrella. I remember walking home from school on a warm day when suddenly there was a heavy downpour. To protect my shoes, I took them off and carried them but they got wet anyway. When I got home, I stuffed them with newspaper to keep their shape and put them in the oven with the temperature on a low setting, but not low enough because soon the house was filled with the smell of scorched leather!

Rain is not wanted until it’s desperately needed: until the reservoirs are near dry, crops are wilting in the fields and the dahlias are drooping.

There are categories of rain. In general, spring rain is considered gentle and soft; torrential rain brings floods and devastation; a good rain nourishes the Earth. And there’s biblical rain; Noah experienced 40 days and 40 nights of it.

Last year, it rained so much I began to wonder if webbing was growing between my toes! And this year, it has rained so much that a lake is forming in Death Valley — one of the hottest and driest places on Earth.

I’ve lived in places where it rained a lot and we learned to live with it. In London, we played tennis in the rain. We had to, or we might never have played. In Saigon, people of all ages walked in the streets with their heads wrapped in bath towels to keep dry.

I still don’t like rain.

But back to the inconvenience of rain. Rain falls on picnics and parades, weddings and baseball and football games. It doesn’t really matter for the football games; I sort of like it when rain falls on the players. The game was more fun to watch back before AstroTurf, when all the fields and players got covered in mud and grime.

These days, I have a different kind of rain problem. Because I’m dependent on a Feather wheelchair and Uber, I have to think twice before going out in the rain, knowing that the Uber driver will get wet collapsing and storing my wheelchair in the trunk of their car.

I don’t own an umbrella because it would be impossible to hold one and guide my electric wheelchair at the same time. But recently, I bought a rain jacket. This is the fanciest rain wear I have ever owned — black, quilted, with front and side zips, and, most important, a hood. I’ve worn it twice to go for coffee at Andy’s. Although both times it was just a mist, not a real rain.

The second time I went, I saw a rainbow.

Jill Holmes is a San Rafael resident. IJ readers are invited to share their stories of love, dating, parenting, marriage, friendship and other experiences for our How It Is column, which runs Tuesdays in the Lifestyles section. All stories must not have been published in part or in its entirety previously. Send your stories of no more than 600 words to lifestyles@marinij.com. Please write How It Is in the subject line. The IJ reserves the right to edit them for publication. Please include your full name, address and a daytime phone number.