Words of the Day: Walking in the Rain

Song from 1948. Image from here.

I propped my flowered umbrella over my left shoulder and did a loop at Anderson Park this afternoon, passing the plaque on the rock, the plaque that honors two championship-winning Montclair lacrosse coaches from the 1970s.

As I passed it, I wondered how it must feel to parent superstar kids, high schoolers who are champions and part of a team. Must feel so good. Do those kids have troubles too? (I doubt it.) Yet now as I reflect here, I see...I ran on the cross-country and track teams all four years during that same seventies window at Dumont High School. Some of the swiftest, strongest girls did have teen challenges: anxiety, lack of friends, mocking, body image and eating disorder issues, peer pressure, “reputations,” and more.

I walked on. Over by Parkside Street, I noticed the boyhood home of astronaut Buzz Aldrin--a shake of magic on a dull afternoon. 

Things seemed mundane....after the walk, buying ground beef at the supermarket. Another lady and I went through the motions. Sighing in our minds, not audibly, as we figured out dinner again, and on a budget. She had long brown hair and was younger than me. The ground beef was on sale. With resignation, we picked up the packages and put them in our carts.

Comrades at the meat counter and in life, without exchanging a word.

So much in life feels hard today. Accepting other views of important situations, when I believe my view is the right one, the only one. Trusting other people. Co-existing with teens, teens who make choices, a young Romeo and Juliet-like pair, and overhearing snippets of their conversation while they make tacos in the kitchen. That could be considered a blessing, too.

Did Romeo and Juliet make tacos? Enjoy frozen waffles for dessert? Haha, no.

According to reference.com:

What Foods Did Romeo and Juliet Eat?

William Shakespeare’s play, “Romeo and Juliet,” mentions in Act 4, Scene 4, “They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.” This is the only specific mention of food in the play resembling the typical diet of upper-class Italians in the 16th century.

Coming to terms. I am responsible for my behavior in life and cannot control what others do.

But it occurred to me today that maybe blogging here helps me sort and sift through life, like sifting through sand on Cape Cod, keeping the pretty scallop shells and letting the rest of the sand fall back into place. But how many times have I picked up a rock near the surf, a stone that shines purple, only to take it home and see it as ordinary gray once it’s dry and on my desk?

Do we need the sun to help us see things in a better light? The sun and the glistening sea? Do we need words to help us see things in a better light? In a softer, brighter, or clearer light?

In between writing about a lovely weekend apartment in the Mediterranean, asking about the fabric on the slouchy white couch, and who did the painting, and then inquiring about a Brooklyn Heights pad with brightly colored walls, and writing about money matters for a fintech site, I think blogging here helps. Writing about life.

It feels good to be home again.