For most of the year, it hangs on the doorknob on the inside of the hall closet. It keeps me from closing the door after I’ve put clean sheets away or stored snow boots in their proper place for the winter. It swings into view when my children romp across the house and press their faces into the mirror attached to the door. Half the fun of making a silly squishy face is knocking the closet door open accidentally-on-purpose.
I always know where it is.
I never want it until I need it.
I never realize I forgot it until I spot someone who remembered to stop at their own hall closet before they left the house.
So I walk in the rain, and think about the doorknob on the inside of the hall closet.