Tonight is a truly beautiful one. I walked home from the gym–which consisted of 45 minutes of punishing stairmastering, 15 minutes of interval runs, then pushups and a bosu ball weighted workout hard enough to make my shins sweat–in what I now am able to identify as my favorite kind of weather. In the warm, blustery dark, I was pelted by hot November rain and slapped by errant brown leaves. Quite quickly my clothes, my bags, grew so drenched that I lowered my umbrella and surrendered myself to the rain. All the way home I focused on the channels along the curb, formed by dips in the pavement and swiftly running rainwater. Since I was a child I’ve always loved the false canals created by rainstorms and streets. Seeing them tonight took me back to being a sweatshirted, soggy child walking a golden retriever on a wet night in New Hampshire, only there there were no street lights to reflect in the dimpled water.
There’s a smell that accompanies a fall rain unlike any other I know. It’s a deep, sweet, earthy potpourri that incites me to remember all of the goodness of summer and the inarguable beauties of autumn, momentarily abetting the fear I have of long winters and dark mornings. I think there were at least four or five minutes during that walk in which I thought of nothing–not of aching hearts, not of hours and employees being cut at my job, not of the terrifying test I’ll take on Saturday–and it was a beautiful, beautiful freedom.
When I finally reached my house I was soaked through; the rain hadn’t let up. I stood for a while on the back porch and watched the half naked trees sway to and fro in the gusty, warm wind. There was a moment–probably more than one, really–in which I considered abandoning my bags and walking, just walking until I had no thoughts at all. But the cats were hungry, as was I, and so I went in.
There are some unexpeted beauties that present themselves in moments like these and demand your full attention, that pull you outside of yourself, just as there are some kinds of good that cannot be undone. I’m thankful of having been reminded of that tonight, and I’m happy for the rain.