I was walking southward on Craig St, past Bayard onto Fifth, when I noticed the sky filling up with thick, dark, gray clouds, and I smelled coming rain. It was so clear - I felt the air become damp and fresh, and I saw the light weaken as the sun was suddenly covered. At that instant I saw a quick streak of white and translucid fall to my right, fast and straight, a raindrop. Ten seconds later, I found myself surrounded by an army of these lines, and felt the water come into my hair, through my shirt, and onto my skin, as the widespread impact of rain on city let out its pleasant sizzling noise. A few Pittsburgh city workers on the sidewalk paid no heed to the rain, as they all wore yellow body raincoats while they worked on some metallic platform on the street.
I shrugged my shoulders by instinct and pushed the button to request a pedestrian crossing. As I began walking on the intersection, the rain suddenly became thicker and louder, making a more solid case for itself, as if we had not heard it well the first time. Already wet, I calmly crossed the intersection diagonally and refused to find shelter under the bank parking lot until I turned left directly towards my front door.
Even indoors, I heard the sounds of rain loud and inviting, and I took off all my clothes. I put on my swim shorts and a white shirt, took my keys with me, and walked out, barefoot and excited. I left my shirt at the door to avoid wetting it completely, then out I went.
I walked eastwards on Henry St, expecting the least amount of people there. Once outside I felt the rain fall heavy on me, but with nothing on me supposed to remain dry, I opened up my body and invited the rain to fall and slide on my skin. It felt fantastic. Rain falling everywhere on my hair, my face, back and arms, to feel it sprinkle on my ankles, to feel it running past my feet that I submerged in the impromptu sidewalk rivers, reliving childhood moments when my feet had been soled with tiny rubber boots, and when siblings all together ran across one street and another, looking for the longest streams to follow, finding small sticks and letting them float down as river boats, and looking for the deepest potholes to get the loudest noise, the biggest splash, and the most attention out of.
Today I calmly walked into deep streams and ponds, I followed a few leaves down the street slope, and showered in the copious rain output from a nearby building pipe. I washed my face and felt my wet hair fall on my shoulders, enjoying every step of the way. Once the heavy rain had subsided into a steady trickle, I walked back inside and dried myself off with a towel. And then I made some mashed potatoes and ate them with corn tortillas from Aldi that I don't believe I'll be buying again.
I felt bliss as I walked out under the loud rain today. I am uncertain whether the bliss I felt all throughout was due to the raw feelings of the rain's gentle strikes and its flow over my body, and of splashing and wet feet and the sound of rain all around me, or whether I felt happiness in allowing myself to do so, knowing not only that I can do it, but that this simple, joyful act is now part of my entelechy. Both are fine.
I shrugged my shoulders by instinct and pushed the button to request a pedestrian crossing. As I began walking on the intersection, the rain suddenly became thicker and louder, making a more solid case for itself, as if we had not heard it well the first time. Already wet, I calmly crossed the intersection diagonally and refused to find shelter under the bank parking lot until I turned left directly towards my front door.
Even indoors, I heard the sounds of rain loud and inviting, and I took off all my clothes. I put on my swim shorts and a white shirt, took my keys with me, and walked out, barefoot and excited. I left my shirt at the door to avoid wetting it completely, then out I went.
I walked eastwards on Henry St, expecting the least amount of people there. Once outside I felt the rain fall heavy on me, but with nothing on me supposed to remain dry, I opened up my body and invited the rain to fall and slide on my skin. It felt fantastic. Rain falling everywhere on my hair, my face, back and arms, to feel it sprinkle on my ankles, to feel it running past my feet that I submerged in the impromptu sidewalk rivers, reliving childhood moments when my feet had been soled with tiny rubber boots, and when siblings all together ran across one street and another, looking for the longest streams to follow, finding small sticks and letting them float down as river boats, and looking for the deepest potholes to get the loudest noise, the biggest splash, and the most attention out of.
Today I calmly walked into deep streams and ponds, I followed a few leaves down the street slope, and showered in the copious rain output from a nearby building pipe. I washed my face and felt my wet hair fall on my shoulders, enjoying every step of the way. Once the heavy rain had subsided into a steady trickle, I walked back inside and dried myself off with a towel. And then I made some mashed potatoes and ate them with corn tortillas from Aldi that I don't believe I'll be buying again.
I felt bliss as I walked out under the loud rain today. I am uncertain whether the bliss I felt all throughout was due to the raw feelings of the rain's gentle strikes and its flow over my body, and of splashing and wet feet and the sound of rain all around me, or whether I felt happiness in allowing myself to do so, knowing not only that I can do it, but that this simple, joyful act is now part of my entelechy. Both are fine.
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