The rain it raineth

When that I was and a little tiny boy,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.

Shakespeare, Twelfth Night

The wet, gray sidewalk stretched in front of me, seams in between each block of concrete marking the rhythm of my walking.  Step, step, seam, step step, seam, an endless procession tap-tap-tapping the sole of my shoe.  Rivulets of clean dirty rainwater surround each footstep, spreading as I put my weight down.

The rain continues to fall headlong, following gravity’s mad rush downward, inward, striving in vain to reach the center of everything.  The water and cold air are in cahoots, working together to build me a cold rain hat as the rain fills my hair.  Tap tap tap, plit plit, step, seam step the world moves by slowly, cars drive by quickly, and a small gust of wind reminds me to breathe.

I want to keep on walking forever, straight, left, and right down the street, towards no destination (but having one anyway).  I close my eyes and walk for a while, blind, seeing only the dim light filtered through the cracks of my eyelids.  Balancing on my legs, I feel the world embrace me for a moment, wind, rain, earth and the fire in my belly.  For a second, I open my eyes to reassure myself that I am still alive.

I am, and I keep walking, eyes closed, with a smile on my face and streams of water trickling down my cheeks.  After a minute, I open my eyes; the depth of what I saw was starting to overwhelm me and reality needed its due.  Seam, step step, seam squish the endless concrete gave away to a patch of grass.

There, I stopped under a tree not to escape the falling rain but to meet a new species of quiet, still air; the kind of air only you can get beneath a tree, filtered fragrant and full of life.  After that pause, the walk continued, I continued walking, the walking continued me.  I walked.  And kept on walking.