Stomping Puddles

The kids got it right

Dear You,

What’s the weather where you are? As for me, it’s one of those perfect summer days — sunny, low humidity, high of 82.

There’s all kinds of shades of blue to blue skies, especially in summertime when the heat can bring a late afternoon thunderboomer. Then the blue turns cornflower, the saturation deepening with a shade of gray.

But this morning, the blue is thinner and brighter, almost tropical.

Do you love summer? People seem to. I like it of course, particular this part of summer when the grass is emerald of its own accord and the irises are still hanging on.

But I also like my weather uneven with piles of rumble-bumble clouds and shifting winds, I admit. A calm day like this — I take it, of course. It’s lovely and sweet, like sucking on the a butterscotch disc from my Granny’s Brach’s bag.

those puddles were not going to stomp themselves

But you know, we had 10 days of measurable rain in a row recently. 10 consistent days. That sort of weather wasn’t too lovely. It’s the sameness that gets me, I suppose. Like a kid, I get bored.

I mean, not everyone likes to be surprised by things — but heck I do. My kids too.

We especially liked the warm day in CT when it rained so much the gutters flooded and they exclaimed CAN WE GO OUT IN THE RAIN and they jammed their toes in their boots, pulled on useless rain slickers and went for it.

We’re all still kiddos, till the day we die. My mom always said that.

“I look in the mirror and think ‘who is that? I’m still 9 years old!’” she’d say.

Mom loved to play tennis. She loved a Coke slurpee. She was a great swimmer. She got lost in a book. She was a pain in the ass.

My sister, Ann, Mom and me at the wave pool

What do you do that is really just the 9 year old in you acting out?

Write back.

Love,

-mE