When my eyes opened this morning to angry skies, I grabbed my shoes and jacket and headed out in it. I love a great downpour, a solid curtain of hard rain that drips down my back and makes my shoes squeak.
The rain was steady but soft when Sophie and I started out. I hoped we would linger long enough for it to earnestly rain. We breathed in the fresh scent of growing things made new. She found interest in the scent of wet clean leaves and I fingered the tender shoots of spring bulbs lying weakly in the mud. We became part of the rhythmic quiet of water tapping the roofs and pavement as we padded along on this solitary walk.
I paused once to close my eyes and turn them skyward, letting the drops slide down my face and into my open coat. Icy cold fingers and damp ears felt wonderfully good. Sophie shook ten or so times before realizing it didn't much help keep her ears dry.
I jumped in puddles with both feet. She dashed down a path among the reeds with the mud squishing between her toes. I led her in a dance in the park as the clouds opened up and pelted our skin and hair. She made me stop from time to time to investigate an enticing smell. It ended the way we both knew it would: with Sophie setting the pace, drawing me onward, urging me home.
NMcC
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