SINGIN' IN THE RAIN

It's always this time of year that gets a little difficult for some.

The cold fronts, the rain, the weight of the clouds, the seemingly neverending overcast days, and the downpours and the snowstorms and the chill.

And you just don't wanna get out and run errands. You don't wanna get out and go anywhere.  You just want to stay home because some part of you is comforted by that thought, by some romanticized childhood ideal, even as the other part of you clearly recognizes and shouts from the rooftops the dangers inherent in trapping oneself in an enclosed building with two wired, stir-crazy children for any significant length of time.

So, you pull yourself together.  And you remember that your little Pisces fish were also born in Seattle.  That they love the water and the rain because you used to.  Before it made you sad.  Before it felt like God was crying.

You load up your brood and you make it all the way down the street, a whole 10 blocks away, to the bank, so that you can at least check that one thing off your list this week.  And as you turn away from the ATM, annoyed at the brisk breeze stinging your cheeks, and the mist weighing down your product-laden hair, ready to usher your little swamp monsters back into the shelter of the warm and dry vehicle, you see them smiling like sunshine and hear them laughing from deep down in their bellies, and for at least those two seconds you really do remember what it was like to run carelessly through rain puddles, all barefoot and gangly, picking up earth worms and splashing one another with rainwater, and you involuntarily stick your tongue out to feel suddenly smaller than the world around you, and yet somehow connected...to everything.

And maybe sometimes...

on some days...

for some kiddos...

and their mother...

a little rain and a couple of brand new umbrellas make absolutely everything okay for a little while.

Singin' In the Rain

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