Quietude in Motion

I walked home through the rain wearing my work clothes.

We’ve had a rainy spell here as the result of a tropical storm that (thankfully) dissipated before it reached us. We had flash flood warnings, even. But as the storm’s remnants have passed over us, the bands of rainclouds have become less and less remarkable.

And I don’t mind the rain one bit. I turn off the water on the garden, yes. I stand at the windows and envision the green that will soon cover Puowaina at the other end of Pauoa Valley. I feel the great big sigh of “Thank You” that everything seems to say.

And I walk home in the rain. Head Chef isn’t available to give me my ride home, so I walk. Just a half an hour on foot, I take it as an opportunity to get exercise. I walk with purpose. The rain is incidental. It’s not a factor; it’s just the environment I must perform this task in. And still I relish the feeling of the sprinkle of moisture on my face, the observation of headlights blurred by drops of rain so small I don’t feel them alight in my eyes.

I walk almost the whole way home without thinking a thing. Feeling visceral and damp. Pointed at my destination, walking, watching, being. It’s a pleasant thing, to move blankly through the rain.