In the rain

I went for a walk in the jungle with my sister, brother-in-law, and the doodle-bug, a 10-month-old girl with white-blonde hair and startling problem-solving-skills.
It started to rain. We continued walking, until the rain turned into a deluge, and we sheltered beneath the trees. It reminded me of Limbe on Palm Sunday all those years ago: little girls in their pink frilly frocks running through puddles and carrying palm fronds as umbrellas.
I didn't mind the rain too much. But I was worried about the doodle-bug. The water was so heavy and insistent, I wondered how she was taking it. After 25 minutes of constant downpour, I was wet and uncomfortable. The stroller was filled with water. The doodle-bug had to be uncomfortable.
The stockings on doodle's little feet dripped and drizzled water. Water streamed down her cheeks and slicked her hair down. And this beautiful kid's face was wreathed in smiles. She clucked and cooed and giggled and splashed her hands in the water.
It amazes me how ready she is to smile. The way she sees the world: as something which she expects will make her happy. Even the rain delights her. I want to be like that.

So many awful things have happened. I've lost so much. For so long, this was what I saw: a count of the accumulating losses. Even now, I don't dare look behind me because the carnage is still too close, and the darkness can overwhelm. Sometimes, it takes the breath out of me. I don't want the darkness to define me this year.

I want to be in the middle of a thunderstorm and laugh because of the sheer joy of it.