Friends back home are posting on social media with their Starbucks cups, jeans, and long sleeve t-shirts. With falling leaves behind them and wind in their hair I am forced to ask myself what the season of Fall really means.
Officially one month as a resident of Miami, Florida and I am struck by one thing— the heat. No not the basketball team (although I assume I will be struck by that too), I am talking about the weather. I am talking about waiting for the bus in the morning and desperately trying not to get burnt. The seasons always marked transitional times for me. When it got cold, I knew that the school year was underway. Snow on the ground always meant that Christmas and the New Year was approaching quickly. Spring leaves indicated that school was almost over and the time to relax in the Summer was coming soon.
Here in Miami the weather is always hot and the sun is always visible. Opening our front door in the mornings I brace for the strong sunlight that fills our front living space. And then, without much of a warning, severe thunderstorms come through and cause the roads to be filled with pools of sitting water, and sometimes wet packages on our doorstep. With a potential hurricane coming for the northeast, all we can do is keep checking the weather reports and praying that the storm does not cause pain in people’s lives. The rain always seems to come at the worst times.
The other day while I was working at my placement, GATE program for juvenile weapons offenders, I heard thunder in the distance. I ran to a nearby window and saw the most amount of rain I’d seen in a long time. My first thought was, “Man that must really be hard for those people who have to travel in the rain”. My second thought was, “…Oh no, thats me!!?” For the record, I did not have my umbrella or a rain jacket and I had to walk a couple blocks to get the Miami-Dade Trolley home. I let this worry about getting soaked in the rain control my thoughts for more time than I am willing to admit. As I shared these concerns with my co-worker he gave me a broken umbrella. He said it wasn’t much, but with some tape we could fix it. An hour later I was walking in the rain holding together the most broken umbrella of all time, but I was so happy to be somewhat safe from the showers. When I got off the bus the rain stopped, my umbrella was in pieces, my feet were damp, but my head was clear from worry.
I know I am going to be jealous of friends posting pictures of them in the snow and the trees on Hawk Hill in bloom in the Spring, but knowing that the sun is always shining when I is the most comforting thought imaginable. And yes, the rains may come and catch me off guard, but the sun will return again; brighter than I remembered it was before.