I can’t say for certain when I first had a true sense of what was happening. I say sense because it’s more about awareness than knowledge and certainty. Imagine walking in the rain, you can have a sense of when the rain starts, and a sense of how the drops feel, but there is no one moment where you transition from dry to damp to soaked, it just kind of happens. It’s the best of metaphor’s, it’s the worst of metaphors. I can’t stress enough how I only know that I don’t know much. Anyway to continue… so of course there are times when you can’t tell if you’re getting wet or if the rain is beading up like dew on you, but you totally sense the dampness. And then there are other times when you step right in a puddle and can feel the puddle in your sock for blocks until you can get into a dry place. My grandfather’s funeral was that stepping into the puddle for me. It wasn’t scary but it was jolting. I’m happy he got to play a little bit that day. I learned a lot. Since then I don’t really go to funerals, but I do appreciate graveyards, they are less intense for me. And then every once in a while you’re just walking down the street and a car comes by and splashes you drenched to the bones.
Ain’t it just like rain
