Place Entry #6

It’s about a ten minute walk, or a five minute run, from my house to the park bench. Some days the houses I walk past are empty, other days they teem with life. Today I passed a man on his cell phone, pacing in quick bursts across his driveway.

“No baby, it’s not like that…. Come on, don’t be an ass…. I told you…. Look sugar cakes, you can’t believe everything you hear.”

My first question is who in the world would go out with a guy who called her an ass and sugar cakes. My second thought is that he cheated on his girlfriend and she got wind of it. He isn’t doing a very good job of oiling his way out of his mess. I didn’t stay to see the end result.

I’m jogging today, trying to outrun the massive storm boiling in from the southwest. I’m running toward it, casting a wary eye upward, gauging how long I can stay out at my bench before I need to beeline it back home. It’s a rather odd feeling. The sun is shining brilliantly in a mostly clear sky. The early tendrils of white clouds haven’t reached the sun just yet. I’m in shorts and sunglasses but I perhaps should have brought an umbrella. The outer reaches of the storm cloud just took over the sun. I slide my shades up to the top of my head.

A few brave women are scurrying along the path, walking happy dogs. All of them are walking briskly away from the storm, their usually relaxed paces quickened. They all, knowingly or unknowingly cast glances behind them, checking the progress of the clouds.

I probably shouldn’t still be out here, the wind has picked up and the temperature has dropped but for some reason I don’t want to let the storm intimidate me. So, for kicks and giggles I start jogging toward it, playing chicken. It will win of course, but for my brief instant of defiance I felt free. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could see life’s storms brewing on the horizon and have the chance to outrun them as well?
I may have dared the storm a bit too long, if I want to get home before the hail, for that is undoubtedly what these black clouds are carrying, I’m going to have to pick up the pace. The man is gone. Either his ex-girlfriend hung up on him or he’s continuing his pleading inside thanks to the storm.

Tulips and daffodils and crocus and hyacinth don't even acknowledge my presence as I sprint past them. The sky is inky black now but I’m almost home. I put on a last burst of speed. Just as I step onto my covered front porch, the sky booms and lets loose a torrent of hail. The white balls bounce harmlessly a few feet away.

I smile.

I beat you.