I wish I could have taken a picture of the scene I just passed on the way home from the gym.
It’s raining today — I had the hood of my jacket up for a minute, but it was too hot. The cool rain on my face and hair was far more pleasant. As I turned down the terrace way, I heard the clacking of heels and a woman’s voice say, “Come on.”
I turned my head right and saw a smartly-dressed woman on the sidewalk: sharp black heels, knee-length black skirt, khaki double-breasted raincoat tied at her waist, and a black umbrella. Roughly ten feet behind her jogged a six or seven-year-old boy in a blue jacket with the hood pulled tight around his face. He had a purple backpack. In both hands he held a lunchbox, a few pieces of poster board, and god knows what else.
“Come on,” the woman said again. The boy lifted his head and saw me watching them.
That’s right, kid, I wanted to say. We cool kids walk in the rain. You’re going to be just fine.
I hope his teacher doesn’t take points of his art project for water spots. And if she does, I hope his mom twists her ankle in those heels.