I should have left for home when I realized how dark it had become outside--much darker than it should be at not yet six o'clock. But I wanted to stay a little longer at work, so I tried not to think about the probability of rain.
I could have put my bike in the basement and walked home with my umbrella, but it was only sprinkling a little, and I figured I could get home before it started to rain in earnest. I passed a woman snapping the plastic cover over her toddler's stroller, and in response to his protest she said, "Il pleut" (It's raining).
There was a sheen on the road from the water, and my brakes squeaked loudly. I thought about how my grandfather Art, if he were alive, would worry about me riding in the rain. I imagined that God has let him be my guardian angel so that he can fly above me and keep me safe.
I arrive at my apartment without incident. Wet, but not soaking. How nice a warm shower will be, after I dry off my bike. My father often repeats Lt. Dan's rules of: "Don't do Anything Stupid and Take Care of your Feet." He instilled in us another rule as well, even if it was not verbalized as often: "Take Care of your Bike."
I carry my bike up the stairs and find an old towel to start cleaning my bike. M is home, so we talk as I work. I am glad that she is here. I don't like being alone too much right now.
The weather fits my mood. A little gloomy, but not oppressive. Occasional tears, but not sobbing. There have been stretches of calm and peace that last longer as the days go by. When I do feel a wave of sadness come, I try to remember the Buddhist teaching, to think "This is what it feels like to be human." It helps.
I feel like the little girl in my nursery class, who was having a hard time yesterday. She would be playing, and then tear up, and come to me with her arms outstretched. I would hold her and reassure her, until she was ready to to play again. A little while later it would happen again.
Do we ever outgrow the need to be held?
