I went to the park this morning. When I got as far away from the car as the trail could take me, it began to rain. The sky’s been threatening all week, but it does that here without follow-through. Cloudy with a 50% chance is the mantra. At the back-end of the greenbelt track, I’m not wearing raincoat or a carrying an umbrella. The only way out is through.
As I got closer to the car, the downpour stopped. I was soaked. My clothes were heavy. I planned to walk three laps, and since I was already wet, I turned back up the path. Of course, as soon as I walked too far to turn around, the clouds burst open again. I decided to go for broke. I wasn’t going to get any wetter. The decision to finish gave me peace. Instead of seeing the weather as an obstacle, I enjoyed the dripping sensation. I was thankful that I left the house without hair gel or mascara.
In my head I heard the voices.
Not enough sense to come in out of the rain. When You walk through a storm hold your head up high. Tut, tut…looks like rain.
But, I’m not the Wicked Witch Of the West. I don’t melt when I get wet.