Morning Appointment

I woke this morning to the soft pattering sound of raindrops tapping on the eaves, and knew before opening my eyes what the coolness of the air meant. Our heat wave was finally broken, if but for a moment, by a rainstorm sneaking in during the night. Inspired by the relief provided by the cold front, I rose early and took a long bath before dressing for work and heading out on my bicycle.
As I was tossing my work bag into my bike basket, I nearly didn’t notice the small green twig with legs who clung fiercely to the weave of the basket. Using a rock I found laying nearby on the ground, I carefully pried the walking stick from his perch and placed him on the ground, after which he scooted away in a lateral fashion.

Determined not to be deterred by the fine mist which fell from the slate-gray morning sky, I made an indirect route to school, cycling to a nearby park and stopping at the grocer on the way to pick up a few items for breakfast. Visiting the park for a breakfast picnic in the drizzle seemed an odd combination of decadence and misfortune, and I delighted in the morning chorus of crickets, cicadas, crows, and bullfrogs which sang to me as I nibbled on my red bean bun. Despite the rain, the park was busy with tottering grandpas practicing their morning exercises and young mothers pushing baby carriages; I received more than a few curious glances as my kitten heels clicked against the damp cobblestone path, echoing in the invisible chamber of precipitation hanging in the bowers.
My morning appointment in the park has suggested to me the value of small pleasures. Its calmness has stuck with me all day, much like the bits of moss I found tucked in the treads of my shoes. I am reminded of how important it is to be gentle with ourselves. We must depend on ourselves for this care, as we are the keepers of our own happiness.