Singing in the Rain

Friday night, after dinner, J.P. and I drove down to Chago's Cantina on Belmont Boulevard to see our friend, Meghan, who used to work at Bongo Java before she graduated from Belmont U. I had seen her earlier in the day, when she told me she was picking up a few shifts waiting on tables this summer before she resumes her teaching job this fall.

It was raining hard as we parked on Belmont Boulevard, a few doors down from the restaurant. Laughing, we ran hand-in-hand up the sidewalk and ducked into Chago's. We stopped to say hello to Chad - the owner - who always takes good care of us when we heat there. When J.P. saw Meghan, he ran up to her from behind and said, "hey!" She turned, saw him and beamed as she picked him up in a bear hug.

As hard as it is for us when our longtime friends from Bongo Java move on, it's such a treat to see them again. To a person, they mean so much to J.P. (and to me, too, because they've been such a part of his life every weekend and many nights after dinner, when we stop in to say hello). We said our goodbyes, then walked out the door, only to find it was raining even harder. I noticed water rushing down beside the curb of Belmont Boulevard, as it tends to do when it rains. There were puddles everywhere. A light bulb went off in my head and I said, "J.P., come on, let's go!"

We ran straight to the first puddle and splashed through it. J.P. squealed in delight. Next, we ran over to the curb, between the parked cars and the sidewalk, and started running through the rushing water. We ran to the corner, in front of the Circle K, then turned around and retraced our steps, running right back up the side of the street, laughing together with every step. I glanced to my left and saw people waiting to be seated at Cha Cha, Chago's and P.M. (3 restaurants on Belmont Boulevard) pointing and laughing right along with us. It was almost like I could read their minds, as each one reflected on a memory of a rainy day when he or she had spashed through puddles with a parent or a child.

I had flashbacks of playing with my sister in the water-filled ditch in front of my mother's house after a hard summer rain.

When we finally got back into my truck to head home, soaked from head to toe, J.P. couldn't stop talking about how much fun we'd had. And I can't stop thinking the same thing, even now.