Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Precipitation Station

This past weekend was a three day weekend. Normally Chris and I head Upstate on such weekends but because we just started a new class we were a little overwhelmed. After tripping to New York City we were quite tired, but we could not stop adventuring with another day to spend together. We got rollerblades. I was a little weary about the rollerblade situation until Chris assured me that we would use them more than we thought we would. He told me that last year when he was living in the city he thought about buying rollerblades in order to get where he needed to go at a faster pace. He wanted to get the rollerblades for us. And so we found them. 


When I was a young girl, my parents got me rollerblades for Christmas. I ended up rollerblading all over the house; climbing up the stairs and back down in my blades, leaving wheel trails on the carpet because it was not warm enough to go outside. But once it was, I remember rolling along side my brother and sister on their bikes right down the road to the park where we would spend hours outside wheeling about.

Our first rollerblading adventure was across the walking bridge. Now I have been across this bridge a handful of times before and each time the weather has been quite bright. But today our fate did not look so luminous. The clouds were gathering and the other side of the river looked rough. But we bladed on. Across the river, joyful as could be. We watched as people turned back, worried that they would get stuck on the other side once the storm hit. But we pressed on. We felt droplets hit our cheeks, but it was not until we were close to the other side that we turned around. It was invigorating. Flying between the rain drops, surpassing all of those walkers who had turned around before us. The rain was almost unnoticeable because of the speed we were traveling. I slowed down to take in the moments we were on the bridge. Chris complained that I was wearing denim and he had on a synthetic fabric so the rain was effecting him more. I hushed him. Those gradual uphills that are disguised as a flat, are unveiled when on rollerblades. You can really feel the hill when you are pushing against the wind. By the time the roads of Poughkeepsie were below the bridge, the rain has ceased. We reached dry land. We swiveled to a stop by the car and removed our blades. 

The rain always refreshes me. I liked to stop and smell the air after it rains. The dampness around me and the freshness of the vegetation. Last summer Chris wrote to me a passage I would like to share, "It's raining, it has been for a couple of days. Yesterday someone asked me, "Did you ever notice how clean the air feels after it rains?" and I told them I love that feeling. They said, "It's like every once in a while God gives the Earth a shower." It seemed really insightful at the time, and its dramatically ironic I think- like in the movies, the storms always coincide with something turbulent happening. With us, the rain seems to come when we need to clear out our unproductive thoughts." 

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