When I was young—8 or 9 years old, I loved splashing in rain puddles. I had a floral-patterned raincoat and matching boots which would always come home happy, used, and covered in mud. I'm double that age now, and my rainboots sit by the door collecting dust. When I'm greeted with the gentle sound of rainfall on my roof, I no longer get dressed and run out the front door. I stay in my room. Someone my age playing in puddles like a child would be odd to see, so I simply stare out my window and watch.
The rain is a soft drizzle tonight. Outside my house, on the sidewalk, I catch sight of a girl ambling by. She's walking with two friends, all of them about my age, and all of them dressed heavily in coats and layers for the rain. I expect them to keep walking, but to my surprise, they slow to a halt and begin talking to each other. I can't hear what they're saying through the staccato of rain against my window, but their moving mouths are wide and happy.
Suddenly, the girl drops on all fours and runs across the ground like a wild animal. The pavement is slick and wet, but her hands don't slip. She's shockingly coordinated, like this is a well-practiced dance. With the speed of an excited dog, she zooms down the sidewalk, then turns and darts back to her friends. For a moment, we meet eyes through the glass, and her smile beams with utter joy. She continues in nimble circles for a while longer, before finally rising back on two legs. She grins and laughs with her friends through exhilarated breaths. The girl wipes her hands on her coat, then all of them walk out of my sight, back to wherever they came.
I stare at the now empty sidewalk for a couple of seconds, with nothing but the patter of raindrops to fill the silence. A girl running around on all fours is quite the unusual sight, but I think about her soaked hair and her gleeful face.
Maybe I'll put on my rainboots and splash around in some puddles after all.