18 July 2011

rain rain, come today

When did it happen?

Suddenly you're a 24 year old woman standing beside the window of your apartment watching it rain and wishing more than anything else that it was fifteen years ago: you are with your sister in the backyard splashing in puddles and laughing, screaming and grabbing each others hands when you hear thunder, running under the porch where you'll watch the sky glow with each electrifying bolt of lightning and count 1 mississippi, 2 mississippi, 3 mississippi until you hear the thunder rumble through the sky and shake the whole world a little and you'll guess how far away it is and you'll wave to mom in the kitchen where you know she's watching you to make sure you aren't still out in the yard with all that thunder so close.

Now, the best you can do is throw on shorts and running shoes to give yourself an excuse to go out into the rain. And while you'll pretend to be a dignified adult taking a jog, all you'll really care about is making sure to jump in each puddle and feel the rain on your face and those pockets of thick, heavy, humid air that hit you like a wall of fire. And it's good.

But running the streets of Provo with shoes on in rain that dries up two minutes after you leave the house, well, it isn't the same. It isn't the same as an Arizona monsoon. And it isn't the same as dancing barefoot with your sister in the yard, drenching yourselves until you're pruney and sopping wet and unfathomably happy; it isn't the same as yelling and hiding under the awning but giggling too because you're not really scared and you know (I mean you really know) that whenever you need to you can turn around and walk through that back door and be home safe. Perfectly safe. Confident that you will have everything you need, and more. And that you'll always have these people to be with you through everything--your sister and your mom and your dad and your dog and cat and tortoise. It's all so sure.

And I want that now. I want to know that everything is always going to be okay and that no matter what I can always run back inside and someone will be there to take care of me. Because while I try to be brave and adventurous sometimes, there is nothing better than the safety of your own home. I really can't imagine that there ever will be.

2 comments:

amy said...

Wow. Simply, you write with beautiful sentences.

Inspiring really.

sweetness xx
hope to hear from you*!
amyflyingakite.com

Brooke said...

Good luck with whatever you do next! I know you'll find a balance between adventures and feeling safe, and when you do I want to hear about it.