This morning Zsolt and I walked over to the Shoppers Drug Mart to pick up my Tamoxifen prescription. We had a conversation before leaving the house that went something like this:
Me: “Don’t forget the umbrella.”
Zsolt: “Yeah, take the umbrella.”
And then we were off to the shop. This morning’s itinerary consisted of the following items.
1. Pick up Tamoxifen from Shoppers’
2. Go to the LCBO and buy some cider for a dinner get-together (our second in three days) tonight.
3. Go to the convenience store and buy some bus tickets.
4. Go to the Metro and buy whipped cream and cream cheese so that I could make a cheesecake for the evening’s social event.
We made it as far as the LCBO (four different cans of cider later so Zsolt can sample the Canadian landscape of cider) before it started to rain. At first it was really light. Kinda like English-rain, fizzy rain. We invested some time at the cross walk, with me pushing the ‘cross’ button repeatedly because a kid I once worked with told me that pushing it a lot hurries things up. (But this was a very stubborn light.)
Now the rain was no longer fizzy. Now it was wet rain. Wet rain raining down on our heads.
“Take out the umbrella!” suggested Zsolt.
“I don’t have the umbrella!” I replied.
“I told you to put it in your purse!” he shot back.
“I told you to take it before we left the flat!” (Regarding narrative, You must have seen this coming.)
Anyhow, the light finally turned so we crossed the street. In hindsight, maybe we should have found shelter in the LCBO.
Right, so we are walking, and my husband – just so you know – is in fact made of sugar. He melts in the rain, it’s a tragic condition with plenty of concern over things like ‘my shoes are getting wet!’ Maybe he’s related to the Wicked Witch of the West? Except he isn’t green.
We’re basically running towards home, which is at least a 10 minute walk/run away, and I reckon this is crazy. So as we pass by some random house, I hop up onto a random sheltered patio and after a moment of two of convincing my melting husband, he joins me.
And then we stood there.
The rain went from wet to strong to roaring down. The street flooded up with thick rivers of water and leafy debris. Water poured down driveways and miniature rapids formed across pot holes. The air was cold and wet. We were cold and wet. But nevertheless, it was wonderful. At some point Zsolt stopped complaining about being caught in the rain and we just watched the storm together.
Storms can actually be rather beautiful.
It makes me smile to find myself in those moments, you know? To find myself, me, the person who is alive and connected to the world rather than the woman who is running with a shopping bag over her head. I love that reminder that even when things get messy, things can still be beautiful.
We waited. And we waited. And then finally the rain dialled down to ‘fizzy’ level, and we walked home together. (All other plans abandoned until we retrieved a proper umbrella).
You never know where those moments of joy will come from, but when they arrive I say it’s a-okay to stand still for ten minutes and simply enjoy.
And that is my story about that.