I was in the city at my daughter’s apartment and left later than usual. It was almost dusk, rain was imminent. But I had to move. To walk. To lap away the week’s yuck. The stuff that piles up.
So, I pulled off the highway and into a favorite local park with less than an hour until sunset. Teenage baseball players arrived for a game under the lights. I thought the season was over but they hauled bats and bags to the dugout for what was likely one of the last games of the year.
Gentle rain started falling. Within minutes, drops grew larger and fell harder.
Midlife walkers increased their speed. A few grandparents took cover in park shelters. Young Moms quickly shoved sports gear into duffle bags and empty water bottles back into coolers.
A good distance from my vehicle, the skies opened. The air remained unseasonably warm and calm. Not sideways nor torrential rain, but a steady autumn shower.
Soon, my baseball cap was soaked, tee shirt soggy, so I walked faster because I thought I should. Realizing I wasn’t at all uncomfortable, I slowed my pace – the rain was needed refreshment. A physical representation of cleansing my overworked mind. I wondered why I would get into the car and spoil this unexpectedly perfect joy. Yet, the reasonable, rational adult in me thought it wiser to continue toward the car.
Then I saw her.
As her Mom and Dad frantically packed belongings and her brother’s soccer team went running for cover, a young girl around nine steadied herself on her hands, stretching into a handstand. I stood still, smile widening as the young one walked on her palms, practicing her handstands over and over and over.
Her fingers sunk into the wet grass. Water dripped off her nose. Undeterred by the steady stream of precipitation pouring from the clouds, unaffected by the anxious parents or loud whistles of the soccer game twenty feet away, she enjoyed herself.
I had two worthwhile reminders leaning against my wet vehicle, rain streaming from the brim of my baseball cap. One: Rain isn’t just a metaphor for cleansing and refreshment – merely symbolic of emotional rejuvenation. Experiencing the elements was renewal, washing away the week’s worries.
The second reminder lingered longer as I stared at the happy child: No matter who or what is happening around me, joy mustn’t be postponed.
Adulthood doesn’t need to be heavy and serious every day. Doing things out of the ordinary (like walking in the rain) sometimes become the exact, extraordinary moments we need to lift us.
Thank you for reading on this Monday…wishing you a warm and cozy final week of October🧡.
Tales from a Mid-Lifer 
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