Rain Walk

It was shining and sunny when the storm hit, slipping down the side of the yellowing mountains suddenly and hard. Storms like this are my favorite, with heavy darkness on one side of the sky and brilliant gold on the other, each falling drop an explosion of light, each drip on a window a comet's trail. Duncan and I were safe inside, where it was cool and I'd already started taking down the pots and pans I'd need for dinner. Duncan's raw meat had defrosted on the counter and was ready to be served up in his bowl. Winnie watched from her spot under the plant on the dining room table. We were dry and settled in for the night, except perhaps, for the night walk, our last of the day, which always comes just before bed when the traffic has calmed, the clouds have cleared and the stars are at their most brilliant.

There was nothing in me that could resist walking in the rain. It is summer, after all, and I knew the air was still warm and sticky even if the water was cool. I tugged on my flip flops and grabbed Duncan, who in his mad desire to spend as much time as possible outside did not seem to notice the wet until he stepped in his first big puddle. He snapped at the rain as it came down on his head and ran his chin through the tall grass, bending under the weight of the droplets. I tilted my head back, closed my eyes and walked across the yard, Duncan's pull and play my only guide, the rain catching in my eyebrows, pooling down in the corners of my eyes, running slowly into the stubble on my cheeks. It was a glorious rain, fragrant and rich, and felt good dripping down my neck and under my collar. My shirt quickly soaked through and as the rain started to let up, the drops continued to trickle from my hair into my eyes.

Today is my last day of summer. Rush at the bookstore starts tomorrow and most of my hours will be spent listening to the senseless whines and complaints of Littleton's finest, the hope of tomorrow. It's a terrible time of year for me, one I spend months and months dreading and making myself sick over. It would be easy to spend tonight thinking of nothing else, working myself into a ball of nervous energy and anxiety, but after the walk in the rain I can say it will be easier tomorrow just to survive, knowing I have this memory inside me, that all the bitching and moaning of the college's miserable lot will never be able to take that from me. I am not my job. I am no one's punching bag. I am a writer, a lover of animals, a kind and gentle person (albeit one with a deep appreciation for irony and sarcasm) and a person who is unafraid to walk in the rain and find strength and harmony enough in its clouds to survive anything.