Wet Boots and Soggy Boats
I remember what it felt like to run free in the rain when I was a little girl. The moment my mom said “Yes,” my two younger brothers and I slipped outside into a downpour of falling rain and flooded streets. I remember how our little fingers carefully fashioned paper boats. We would sail our soggy, waterlogged creations to their death as they reached the roaring waterfall of the gutter. Our cheering competed with the loudness of the rushing water as the three shipwrecked boats tumbled down into a miniature sea.
We would run through the neighbors' yards in search of the puddle of all puddles, our boots soaked through and our hair matted to the sides of our faces.
Years later, nothing has changed. Rain still falls from the sky and children still find freedom in “Yes,” as they slip outside into the rain. But now they are my children. I watch them scream as their boots fill with water and their hair sticks to the sides of their face.
The oldest one makes a big splash and the little ones watch, amazed by his puddle jumping. They feel the rush as the cold water flies into their face and takes their breath away. I stand by and watch, my heart beats with theirs. I know what they are feeling. I know it well.