Who am I?

Who are you supposed to be? She looked out of the lightly fogged windows to see the rain drenched park, her purple acrylics tapping over the gear shift with an eerily practiced anxiousness. Nothing about the view ahead of her seemed like how an afternoon should be spent. Gray gripped the entire sky, no hints of the usual soft blue she was fond of. It looked like a mess waiting to happen.

Tap, tap, tap. Is it the rain on the roof or her little tick? Inside a booming voice speaks up, telling her to turn around run to the comfort of her home. The promise of some soft blankets wrapping around her and loud music drumming against her ears was oh so tempting. It’s cold out there, it’s wet out there, and it’s all so unappealing to this creature compiled of pure routine. She was but a sloth wearing the skin of a professional working woman.

“Just go on home,” it encourages her; “this is who you are supposed to be.” The voice was the same one she had heard whispering in her ear for so many years, motivating her to quit before she started. Depression? Laziness? Who knew? Despite how loud and overpowering that dark fog was, the new voice she was fostering to grow was murmuring quietly in the background.

Looking to it she heard it speak gently, almost begging, “Go out, have a little fun. Stomp in a few puddles. You really had a hard day but a little rain can’t dampen me.” It was her inner child, the one that she was working so hard to nurture, why she even started this little self-journey. Another peek at the scene and she put the loudest voice in a box and hopped out with an umbrella in hand.

It wasn’t fun to start; it was so cold that her legs trembled beneath cheaply lined leggings. She was so ready to bail out, the desire to be in her comfort zone was screaming through her entire body. In the distance she thought she saw someone, someone else was silly enough to be out in this. Another woman ran by without anything kind of cover and gave her the brightest smile she had seen all day, melting the ice that gripped her in learned habits. That one second was enough for her, to give her what she needed to march forward through the sludge of play sand and red clay. She grinned right back and kept moving her heavy feet to the new band she was listening to today.

Eventually she found her feet and legs soaked but she also rediscovered a small joy. The joy of stomping in puddles, laughing at how the mud splattered up her very adult dress. She let that child run wild for one rainy afternoon and felt her very grownup worries and frustrations pool to the ground. She left with damp hair, an empty head, and despite her toes aching from the chill she was content with those blissful moments. Three miles and so many negative thoughts were left behind in the puddles at the park. The gray was a fluffy friend and the water had washed away an entire day of stress. “This is who you are supposed to be,” it whispered with almost a cheekiness about it, “happy.”

Photo Credit: Brad S.