Puddle Jumpers

The rain makes me timid.

I hurry from place to place with my hood pulled down low over my eyes to shield me from the sheets of cold water that try every way they can to get onto my warm skin. I hate the rain. It keeps me looking down at the ground, carefully putting down each shoe into what I have calculated to be the optimal spot for a step, in the spot that seems to be driest on a sidewalk filled with crevices I never noticed before, but am now forced to navigate around like the Millenium Falcon in an asteroid field. I don’t look anyone in the eyes. Dark shapes hurry past me, sometimes splashing me if their owners are not as careful as I am, and don’t care about where their ungainly feet land or about the havoc their carelessness might cause. I hate the rain. I hate how it can put me in my place, force me to reckon with nature and realize that though man has invented a metal box that will take me to Paris in an afternoon and has found a way to supply me with bananas in the winter, no one has yet devised a way to stop this god-awful water from falling from the sky. I hate the way I hide from the rain, my eyes downcast, not looking at anyone else around for fear that the tiny sign of weakness might allow the water to break through the defenses I have put up with my hood. Sometimes I walk under an umbrella, holding it tightly above my head like a shield not only from the fat drops of water and debris dripping from the buildings that tower over me, but to put one more layer between me and the rest of the world, the skyscrapers that tower so high if I look up I might forget I exist at all and fall into an abyss of insignificance. I gather my limbs into myself and hold onto the handle of the umbrella for dear life as the wind buffets me from all sides. I feel so powerless. I hate the rain.

That’s what my life was like before the puddle jumpers came into my life. I fought and fought against the fear-striking powers of nature until finally I came across a pair of high rubber boots in the window of a shop, and within a few minutes I was walking out again, my life forever altered. For with my puddle jumpers, I am no longer confined to the tiny bubble of myself that the storms have so often forced me into. I don’t have to look down to avoid the pools of disaster that were once the bane of my existence. I stand straighter. I walk quickly and carelessly, splashing anyone who gets too close. Some days I don’t even need the umbrella or the hood. What does it matter that these buildings tower above me? I am limitless in my power to cross the street wherever I want, to place my feet heavily without looking, because it doesn’t matter where the water is or where it goes when I displace it; I will not get wet. I look into the eyes of those hurrying by me, though most of them are too busy watching their own ways to return my gaze. It doesn’t matter. I am more powerful than ever before. I have conquered the rain. I have taken back my space.

Even now, though the rain has faded with the daylight and left me to walk home through a misty dusk, I feel the power of the puddle jumpers. All around me, the city breathes slowly, peacefully, enjoying the silence that has finally descended upon the damp streets in the wake of the roaring deluge that was the soundtrack of the afternoon. The puddles stand still, as smooth as mirrors. I see the stillness of the scene around them reflected on the surface like a photograph behind glass. The only thing that disrupts the bright reflection of the street lights and park benches is my own upside-down figure, growing larger and larger in the asymmetrical frame of the puddle. It is so quiet, so peaceful. It would be a shame if something were to shatter this stillness.

Splash! I leap into the puddle with a splattering of water that almost makes it to my damp jeans at the rim of my rubber boots. The surreal moment is broken, the picture torn apart into millions of twinkling ripples that scatter away from me as I step forward, dragging some of the water with me. And in that moment, I feel the power of the puddle jumpers settle upon me. I am ready to ride them into battle. Bring it on, Mother Nature, they seem to be saying. Nothing you can try will stop me.

I love the rain. The rain makes me bold.