Have you ever been caught in the rain without an umbrella, raincoat or a nearby shelter? Since I’m a city girl and don’t hike, camp, bike over mountain trails, I rarely get caught unprepared.
There is a lot going on in my life right now. I am in the process of publishing my first book, Playing Sheriff: A Nurse Practitioner’s Story. I am preparing to give a talk this evening to the oversight board of the hospital where I volunteer. I am co-chair of a patient advocacy group and am working on a power point presentation. (I haven’t used Power Point once in the last ten years!) What part of my book do I read when I am in Chicago two weeks from now at a luncheon celebration for the clinic where I worked over 30 years ago? And I’m scheduled for some extra sessions of kid duty, aka, babysitting in the next few days. And the most telling of my self-imposed angst is that I am six New Yorker editions behind rather than the usual two.
In the middle of this effort to keep my “to do” balls in the air, my husband and I set out for a walk. The newspaper didn’t predict precipitation so we dismiss the gray clouds loitering above. Shortly after we start, soft drops of rain dampen our heads. We turn around. At first we walk under the shelter of the tall trees that line the walkway. The last part of our trail is on concrete sidewalks lacking cover.
The rain teases us by alternating between a soft drizzle and plummeting shafts of water. A block before we reach the house, wind slams even heavier sheets of rain down on us, flattening my hair, soaking through my stretchy dry-fit sport shirt. Rivets of water run down my arms. While my husband picks up his pace, I saunter. The gray landscape takes on a surreal element, blurring the houses with shades of red, purple and white azaleas like a Monet painting. The smell of earth, sound of the wind and the wet slog of each footfall heightens my awareness of the surroundings and lightens my stress. I glide home in the downpour.
I step through the front door dripping water onto the rug and I drop my “to do” balls to the floor.
Lovely story. I could feel the rain . And, congratulations for the book being published and all for professional successes.
Greta
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Hi Greta,
You have been a role model to me since you self-published your book. Thanks for dropping by.
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I think it’s time to stop and smell those azaleas! Funny.
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I forget how fun it is to walk in the rain!
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I agree; a walk in the rain can be a wondrous thing. Thanks for reminding us!
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I remember as a child I would run out in the rain. My mother didn’t seem to be bothered by this. Bless her heart.
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I love the vintage photograph of nurses on your header. Very intriguing!
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Thanks.
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Lovely surprise. Great way to let go of all the deadlines and angst.
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Yes, I need to walk in the rain more often
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Ah, Perfect timing for me to read this! Life feels chaotic, and when I feel this way, it’s usually because I’m trying to hard to keep everything going.
Kudos on the publication! I’m taking baby steps in that direction.
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Beautiful post! I can’t wait to read your book!
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Thanks.
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Congratulations on the book publication! And the description of your sauntering through the rain with Monet images among the houses, letting all that just wash over you was beautiful.
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Thanks Kay
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I’m not sure yet. I certainly will put the date on my Blog.
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You have beautifully described what it’s like to “retire.”Congratulations on your publication. When will it be out?
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