When we left the house for our walk there were dark clouds on the horizon, the intermittent kind that threatens a cloudburst of short duration. Given that possibility, to many folks we left the house grossly unprepared, with no raincoat or umbrella. Indeed, getting caught in the rain has been a common occurrence for us over the years. I would not trade away any of the ensuing memories.
We were coming down Greenwoods Road when the cloudburst arrived. We spent the first few minutes hugging each other under the thick foliage of a tree. With no sign of the downpour letting up soon we headed under a nearby porch. With nothing else to do for the next few moments I reminisced over getting caught in the rain, mostly with Cindy.
The most dire situation for us came just a year ago, on the Pacific Crest Trail. Our good friend Mike, Cindy and I embarked on a 23 mile day around Mt. Hood in Oregon. Charissa was serving as support, intending to meet us at the end of the day. For that reason we packed light. A fierce thunderstorm arrived about one third of the way in and we did not have the gear to camp short or wait out the storm comfortably. I called for a “group hug” among the three of us that lasted about twenty minutes.
I doubt Cindy remembers the intimacy of that moment, or any of our “caught in the rain” moments now. For my part, the fondest part of that memory was how much my daughter Charissa and I proved to be on the same wavelength. Charissa knew we would get to the rendezvous site, despite other hikers telling her how a dangerous ford from flash flooding prevented all hikers from getting through that day. I knew Charissa would be at the rendezvous site waiting for us and we needed to get there. Had either of us “flinched” the day might have been disastrous. Instead, the moment we saw Charissa coming towards us on the trail with her headlamp, and likewise the moment she spotted us, was the stuff of “forever” memories.
As we huddled under the porch together I reflected on how most of our “caught in the rain” moments have been more romantic than dire, as we snuggled to protect each other from the elements. We’ve had to snuggle everywhere from Hawaii to Germany. I reflected as well on being in a town where seeking shelter under a stranger’s porch would not cause consternation in anyone. If anyone proved to be home we knew they likely would welcome us in, rather than be provoked. As our society grows apprehensive you cannot say that about every place.
For that matter, what are the chances we really were on a stranger’s porch in such a town? When the storm abated and we left the porch I noticed a man working on his car inside an open garage. I figured the decent thing to do was to go up and thank him for the use of his porch. Only then did I recognize a former student of mine. He gave me a hearty smile and his approval, which he would have done even if I were not his former teacher. Unfortunately, that moment will never make it into Cindy’s memory banks, but for me will be one more memory filed under the special “caught in the rain” category.
