Today, it’s raining.
It’s one of those light, steady rains that’s not going away.
Having recently reached an agreement with myself to get outside and walk or run every day, I pull on my windbreaker and head out.
The river that runs through the park flows swiftly in places, roiling over the hidden rocks. Eddies churn in the various corners of the route. Other spots are flat and still, quietly dotted with raindrops.
Along the edges, everything looks so dark and so green. It makes me realize how close we are coming to the change of seasons.
People blast music out from under the protection of the park’s pavilion. The smoke of barbecue wafts through the air. Snippets of laughter and chatter bite the atmosphere, eerily crisp and distinct.
On the other side of the wide expanse, another pavilion is draped with white. A crowd gathers there for a wedding, folks struggling hastily with their dressy attire in the rain.
I silently skitter along the path, noticing the cabbage butterfly flitting among the viney greens, the pair of ducks nestled against the far shore of the river.
A small boy rides his bicycle up and down, up down through the empty skate park. He halts and looks warily at me as I pass.
“Looks like fun,” I smile at him.
He suddenly brightens all over and smiles back.
“Thank you!” His little voice sounds surprised and hopeful and suddenly proud.
No, today, I didn’t bother worrying about pace or posture, I just made sure I got outside and moved. And I knew why it is so worth it. It’s the magic of that gentle, affirming connection with what’s out there – the earth, the sky, the air. And the occasional soul.