Wet Weather

The air was wet, the sky all purpled up. I know what it looks like when rain is coming. I know dry and warm is inside. 

But I had that wondering. That sense that I'd miss something if I didn't wheel up. Mix in my irrational sense of optimism and I was a goner. I convinced myself the rain could, or would, hold off entirely. With one click of the chin clasp on my bike helmet I shrugged and thought, at most, maybe, maybe it would be just be a light sprinkle. 

I got soaked clean through. A cold rain that started off with fat plops before opening up a full downpour. The surprise wasn't the storm itself but the sweet, giggly feel of it. The way my toes flinched against my sandals. The swishing noise of my bike tires against the puddled up pavement. The spray that comes from wind shaking around a tree full of wet leaves.

I rolled up to my destination. Drip dried on the porch for a moment. Rubbed my cold cheeks that were stiff from smiling. I forget how much I can love wet weather.