The Cognition

Yesterday:

So I woke up this morning, this lovely sunday morning (palm sunday!!) to my mum waltzing into my room. Yes, she does still wake me up on Sundays, simply because i downright refuse to set my alarm for the Lord’s day. The seventh day he rested… that includes me, thank you very much.

One thing you gotta know about my mum is she is never, ever, ever unhappy outwardly. Because she’s human she deals with things that break her heart just like yours or mine, but she is always optimistic and looking at the bright side of the spectrum with little acknowledgment of the left side, unless it is physically, psychologically and emotionally trying her. Good thing these events dont happen regularly. I think parts of this attitude came from her being a nurse and seeing that no matter how crappy your circumstances are, at least you are able to go for walks and runs and the like with your health mostly in tact.

Side-tracked.

She comes in, wakes me up, sits down on the side of my bed and I twist my body so my torso is face down over her thighs with my head on her knees. She scratches my back (grand way to wake up) and tells me to get ‘er going cause breakfast (homemade scones… every sunday morning…. : ] !) is at 0915. She leaves, I sit up, look outside and are struck with the most ridiculous of euphoric emotions.

It is going to rain.

Shortly and very closely following sun, my favourite… favorite weather pattern is rain. It is clean, it smells phenomenal, it is the best to dance in, it is great for exposing people for who they really are.

I have several really amazing rain stories, but one of my favourites was with a friend named Jessalyn back in grad 9.

Jessalyn was an amazing person: shes was athletic, she was intelligent, she could give da Vinci a run for his money with her art and she was extraordinarily beautiful– both inside and out. Spending time with her just made time race by: she was random in thinking and spontaneous in action, fun loving but someone who you could sit down and chat with about serious topics. Now one day in grade 9, the day started out relatively nice: the sky was blue but there were traces of clouds that looked like they would potentially cause some grief later in the day. Back in grade 9, I would sit by the window, peering out the glass to the weather and trees beyond, yearning for the green of the grass and the warmth of the sunshine.

The day kept rolling by and the clouds grew steadily more and more dense, looking as if they were going to collide with the world and leave solid impressions for us to glimpse at. Then, about half an hour before our 1.5 hour lunch break, it started to rain.

Rain maybe isn’t the best word… better would be torrential downpour. It was if the clouds had seen the misery that I was stuck learning about the Russian Revolution and decided to weep for my misfortune; huge wracking sobs that carried down to earth, flooding the grass.

The lunch bell rang and Jessalyn and I looked at each other, twin mischievous glimmers of joy in our eyes. With little though to the plain white t-shirt and summer yellow bra I was wearing, the two of us sprinted to the doors, ripped them open and literally went frolicking in the water. It was beautiful, it was redeeming.

We ran in circles, our pants getting drenched, kicking off our shoes so that we would feel the squelchy mud and grass beneath our slowly freezing toes. Our hair was plastered to our faces as we swung each other ’round and ’round, slipping and sliding and flinging our bodies in every which direction.

And the fondest scene that is burned still into the back of my eyes, were the other girls in our year: three to an umbrella, too worried about their hair and make up and the cleanliness of their clothes to bother seizing an opportunity that would cause them to change the way they saw the world.

Jessalyn and I kept dancing and the other girls kept squirming, trying to escape the beauty of the rain while we drank it all in.

They were afraid that they wouldn’t be pristine looking for the ‘boys’ while Jess and I just had a riot being the normal humans we are called to be. They were scared to be exposed, we downright loved it.

One thing I have to wonder is why on earth don’t people love themselves for who they are? Live a little. Be the person that isn’t going to change. If you love emo music, proclaim it. If your masculine self is itching to drink ‘fruity girly drinks’, go knock yourself out babe. If you feel you’re going to be discriminated ’cause you ride a skateboard, go and wheel that sucker.

That’s what went through my mind. What bout you?