More than a chance of rain

I was going to mow my lawn this morning. The grass was green and getting tall. And then it began to rain. A good soaker with occasional thunder.

There were a few dishes next to the sink to do. More in the drying rack from last night to put away.

Instead, I took a black and white umbrella from the back porch, and stepped out into the rain in my bare feet. My pant legs would get wet, but what did I care about that? The grass was green and wet. The water was warm, rushing over my toes in the gutter as I crossed 15^th street. Jogging across the football field at Central Middle School was like splashing my white bare feet across a well-soaked dark green sponge. I nearly had the world to myself.

But then I encountered one other person as I walked. She was twisting a shirt or a towel or something to squeeze the rainwater out of it as she stood on the sidewalk near Central in the pouring rain. A  bicycle, a stuffed day pack, and a small wet dog were near her bare feet.

I said something about the weather. She said something about not wishing for things you didn’t want to get – she had been hot and smelly just yesterday. Today she was getting a shower.

I suppose that I could jump to a conclusion, here. I mean, just around the corner, there was enough space by the front doors of the school for her to get a little shelter. Or a few blocks over at Dillons, there was an overhang where she could get out of the rain. Even a public restroom inside.

But maybe she wouldn’t want to leave her dog outside alone. She told me he was eight years old as I crouched under my umbrella to scratch his wet back. So he would always just be a little dog. Or maybe, as the rain came raining down, for this woman standing in the rain – not too old, not too young - it made the most sense for her just to wait for the rain to stop.

I asked her somewhat euphemistically if she was travelling. She looked me with her wet face and dark eyes and said that she was taking a walk.

We exchanged a few words and a look or two. She said something about forty days. I said ‘take care.’ I walked away from the woman and her dog in the rain.

I don’t think that my words were enough, but I suppose we would have needed to know each other quite a bit better for either of us to do much more. We were strangers meeting on a corner in the middle of a rainy summer morning.

But, still, her feet were bare like mine. We were walking. I did have an umbrella and still my pants were half soaked. I put on a dry pair when I got home.

**

It’s an hour later and I’ve been making some notes on my laptop. It’s still sprinkling outside and it looks like more rain to come. I suppose I’ll put away yesterday’s dishes. Maybe tomorrow I’ll mow the lawn. With all of the rain we’ve been having, the grass is green and getting taller.