A Writing Adventure Pt. 11

Constant Drizzle

Mud is everywhere. Today is marks the third day of rain. Yesterday was a constant drizzle. It’s type that isn’t a nuisance, at first, but if you stay in it long enough, you’ll sink.

My normal parking space is a nice, hard piece of earth. Two days of rain transformed it into a sliding patch of mud. The walk to the car involves a game of hopscotch, jumping from one, small grassy patch to the next, without covering my shoes with thick, brown, sludge.

Two days of rain was a mood killer. There’s something about not feeling or seeing natural sunshine for awhile. It’s unfortunate, there’s not a store that offers a sunshine filled room to sit in, for a small fee. Horrible Bosses 2 off-set the gloom and did a marvelous job in motivating me to take care of business.

See, two days ago, the plan was to go to my storage unit before I left for New York but the drizzle never stopped, nor was it going to. So, we went anyway.

We laid a blue tarp on the wet ground, then rummaged through the boxes to see evidence of a writer’s life. Many boxes  were filled with spiral notebooks, reference books, and how-to guides, reminding me of who I was when I put those things away. Aside from the artist’s tools there were clothes, shoes, hats, towels, and kitchen things because sometimes writers like to get dress and eat.

Standing on top of a dryer, I glimpse into boxes, then passed them to my daughter, who kept reminding me of the rain. The rain didn’t matter to me anymore. I felt like a kid at Christmas, opening each box, excited to see what I forgotten about. The experience solidified my desire to build on this wonderful foundation and continue to create something good.

“My life is in here. All of who I am are in these boxes and I can’t wait to get back to it,” I said to my daughter, who would’ve rather found the book bag for her efforts. But she did get to see what made me smile, amid a miserable day and why I try not to complain, even when things seem gloomy.

The storage unit holds more than three rows of worn, cardboard boxes, a washer/dryer set and a couple of rugs, it holds the essence of me. It doesn’t matter that I haven’t used my things in four years, what matters is the person I created progressed and seeing the difference between who I was and who I am now, there is a definite appreciation and a lot of love there.

Had I went through the boxes and felt an ounce of sadness, regret, or self-pity, then something would’ve been wrong and I would know I wasn’t doing the right thing .

The only sad part about visiting storage is that I couldn’t find a single item that I wanted to throw away. Well, there is a  green basket, with a broken handle, that’s been crushed by the sliding, storage door. That, I can live without.

My daughter ended with a bag better than the one I had in mind and she’s happy. I ended with a better life than the one I packed away, so all in all, the consistent drizzle persists and I embrace.

There are warnings of flash floods and we heed to the call, but we don’t stop living, we live despite the bad weather and we play hopscotch we when need to hurdle the obstacles in our way.

The rain that fell on me and wilted my boxes, fell on everyone who lived in the vicinity. For two days, I let the rain stop me from taking care of business. I blamed the rain for my lack of motivation, when in truth, it was easy to blame the rain, it had no defense and it wouldn’t tell on me.

Life is messy.

So, what if my feet sink deeper into the mud. It won’t be like this forever. One day the sun will shine again, the mud will harden, and I’ll stop sinking, I’ll be on solid ground. Sure, I could wait for it, or I can keep moving and not ever sink. How do you play in the rain?


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