[Driving thru Illinois. Chub is six or seven.]
“Uneventful drive. Little talk. Rain falling. The main sound the windshield wipers.
And then it happened—the car was in sunshine. Chub looked back—and it was still raining. He begged his father to stop, please, please, and Mike, happy with his stuffed goose safely in the trunk, stopped. Now back up, please, please. Mike humored him. There was no traffic on the quiet country road. He backed up until the front half of the car was in the sun, the rear in rain.
Chub had to get out and they let him. He stood in the sunshine, stared at the rain. Until that moment, he had always thought when it was raining on him it was raining on everyone. The he ran to the back of the car, let the rain fall on him. And then he cried, “I command sunshine,” and he ran to the front and when he was at the front he cried, “I command rain,” and he circled around to where it was wet.
Then he began to run, laughing and churning his short legs, racing around and around the stationary vehicle, while his parents watched silently from inside. He ran until he was exhausted and when they told him to get in, he ran just a few more times, begging them to let him do it just once more, just once more, and they let him until their patience was gone.
Chub lay in the backseat as the car began to make its way south. He kind of dozed, pondering what had just happened. What he thought then was that it was probably the happiest, certainly the most wondrous moment of his life. What he came to realize later was that it was the first time (and alas the last) that he actually believed in God.”
-William Goldman, “The Color of Light” (1984)