The Storm

Dark clouds waited on the horizon.  I'm driving away from the storm, but I hope it'll follow me.  I can't remember the last time it rained.  But I keep driving, and forget about it as I hurry to class.

They're closer now, distracting me from my student.  I say "it's going to rain," but I need to focus on math right now.  Too bad I'm sitting right next to a huge window, with a perfect view of the sky.

A couple droplets fall as I make my way to the computer lab, but it isn't much at all.  I ignore it as I slip into the internet.

Then the power flickers, and the computer shuts down.  I try to hide my glee: I love it when the power goes out.  It means we've got a real storm on our hands.  I pack up my things and go, passing the hordes of students hiding from the rain in the doorway.

I've got a long way to walk, and the rain is torrential.  I'm soaked to the skin in under a minute, squelching and squeaking as I pass through a building to get to the other side.  I can barely hide my grin, exiting alongside another brave soul, into the open air.

We run.

The water is pouring down me, my hair plastered to my skin.  I take off my glasses, because I can't see a thing through them anyway, and I want to feel the water hit my face.  It's a kiss on my nose, a brush down my arm, a whisper on my neck.

My shoes are full of water, but I don't even think to take them off, I just giggle, swimming through the air like a fish in the sea.  I pass a few people, huddled under umbrellas.  I laugh, louder than I meant to.

I keep walking, but I want to dance, twirling and jumping, flinging water droplets through the air.  Whatever I have, I hope it's contagious.  More people should see how beautiful the world is.

When I enter another building, I look and feel like I've slithered out of a swimming pool, watery footprints marking where I've been.  I see a teacher, and she almost didn't recognize me, "Oh, poor Penny!" she says, but I just laugh and keep going out to the parking lot.

I put my things in the car, so they won't get any wetter than they were before, but I just stay there, eyes closed, gentle kisses washing over me.  I hear cars pass, and I wonder what I must look like to them.  Who is this girl, standing in the rain, her face turned up to the sky?  I wish, again, that other people could hear what I hear, see what I see.  Maybe then, they'll understand what a glorious place this planet is.

I finally force myself to get in my car and drive away, but I open all the windows and let the water in.  I hope that my car won't smell funny after this, but it just feels too good to pass up.  I drive past people, huddled inside their safe, warm cars, and I sing, my hand out the window, letting it drip on and through me.  I start to pity them.  They're all stuck in traffic, on a cold, dark, wet, day.

I, on the other hand, am in heaven.