7/03/02: On letting go of things a little
So it was that day a few days ago when you really weren't sure if it was the heat or the humidity, a day when it kept randomly raining and stopping and raining and stopping.
I was walking down the street going to Red Lobster for reasons of my own, when a gust of wind came along and blew my dress up over my head. It was funny, so I started laughing. I mean, I was Marilyn-Monroe-ing it in my blue fake-denim looking undies I've had since high school. Really, no one saw anything they wouldn't see at the beach. So I laughed. But since I really didn't want it to happen again, I grabbed the bottom of my skirt with my right hand and held it down.
I took two steps and suddenly the bottom of my sandle gave way. It had been bending and ripping for weeks and it chose this moment to give way totally. It was kind of tricky to walk with the sole of my shoe split into two halves, and kind of painful, with the jagged edges. I sighed and laughed and limped on, still holding my skirt down. It wasn't far to go 'till the subway.
Not two steps later, the skies opened up and it began to pour. I took my umbrella out of my bag and opened it up. A little weird clicking noise let me know that the mechanism at the top of the umbrella had just broken off. So now my umbrella will not stay open unless I hold it open. So I limped forward, left hand holding the umbrella open at the top, right hand holding my skirt down at the bottom.
I had gone about a block when I said, oh, screw it, and closed my umbrella. As the rain fell, my skirt got wetter and wetter, and stuck to my legs. The water made my feet slip around a little in my sandle, which actually made it easier to walk. I tied the umbrella to the back of my backpack, took a deep breath, and walked on.