Rainy days get to me. I try to enjoy them... but the dreary clouds seem to hang low... oppressively crowding out the sunlight. They seem to beg me to mope with them. But I don't like being mopey.
Wet jeans drying by the heater that sometimes blows cold air instead of warm. Small puddles on the squeaky floors. Umbrellas line the hallways. It gets dark extra early... the fluorescent lights seem to glow extra bright... extra unfriendly. cold.
Splish-splashing to class in my teacher pants and shoes... across the parking lot where the puddles are hidden mines of water of unknown depths. Tottering uncertainly, trying to avoid the big ones ... the ones that I know I will regret... when they splosh into my shoes and soak my socks. The shock of thinking that one such puddle is shallower than reality... and plunging my foot down as the water pours in...
Grumpy. Wet.
And then... the quiet patter of the rain slows. Umbrellas fold themselves away... the clouds curl. And tiny rays of hope glimmer out. And I look down where the puddles stand, no longer being drizzled upon. Still, quiet bodies of water. And as I walk by, no longer terrified of the unknown depths (because I can finally see), I see the reflections of sky. In each puddle, I see an outline of clouds... and bright rays peeping out from behind.
The puddles lead me to look up. To marvel. To be blessed by a glorious sunset.
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