The Art of Waiting in the Rain

I recently congratulated myself on my new found patience.  When I used to get annoyed waiting in the doctor’s office 10 minutes past my appointment, I now revel in the unexpected luxury of some uninterrupted time to delve into the latest Library Journal.  Walking the dog in the rain was an exercise in futility, since we both prefer to spend rainy mornings cuddling.  These are all things that we have to do in order to live successfully.  I’m still trying to understand the difference between the simple and the fundamental, but I have at least discovered that time is not something to be carelessly tossed around, wasted, or even endured.   Time is SO precious, and it seems that quite suddenly, I’ve become aware of it just as it flees away.

When the pug and I used to see grey clouds and rain hitting the window, we’d groan and desperately try to hold on until a more pleasant walk could happen.  This time of year, a walk through Boston Commons just after the rain has washed all the grime away is one my most nostalgic past times.  Buds and lilac blossoms replace smog for a brief moment.   The air even looks beautiful, a glistening only possible in the post-rain haze.

When I’m caught up on wishing to stay comfortable and warm, I easily forget that there is beauty everywhere, all the time.  Probably most of the world’s loveliness wrought in poor weather conditions remain undiscovered.  Falling rain softens the landscape.  Even the part of the world I currently inhabit that lies between train tracks and a highway.  Neponset river laps at the edge of our walk.  I wait as it rains, I’ll be fine.

And we will always &  eventually return to our preferred state of cozy.

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