She opened the front gate, pushed up her clear bubble umbrella and put on the other fleece glove. Light rain, cold breeze, just another day, she thought, as she ambled down the street. Once she turned west, strong gusts of wind pushed steadily at her, head on, to the left and then to the right. She deftly as possible turned the umbrella into the direction of the gusts, and focused on not losing her balance and blowing far away or into the street.
Wielding the umbrella as if it were a metal shield deflecting arrows, she sucked her lower stomach into her spine, bent forward slightly and focused on the strength in her legs, keeping her knees soft and placing one foot after the other, heavily and steadily, on the streaming and puddled ground, trying not to tumble and roll into the street as the wind whipped around making her skin tingle, her muscles work hard and smoothly and every cell of her being feel alive and strong.
Usually along the lake it was less windy than it was closer to work, which was nearer to the bay. She turned onto the path by the lake, and instantly wished she was across the boulevard with solid buildings on one side for protection.
As the cold wind pushed her side to side, and then back, she stumbled slightly and marched on, laughing. What could be more exhilarating than this lusty, gusty, cold fresh morning playmate? She had no idea this was going on this morning. What had they been babbling about on the radio this morning? Not this.
She saw herself blowing into the lake, sailing with her big umbrella. What would that beautiful little black and white duck think? She pictured herself and her fellow adventurers rising straight up in the air with their umbrellas like Mary Poppins and then soaring away. What was the song that went with that scene? All she could think of was 'Chim Chimeny Chim Chimeny Chim Chim Cherroo', which she sang in her head and laughed out loud, trudging along,
Cold, ridiculously windy, rainy, this was the most exciting, fun, slightly terrifying, blustery, challenging awe inspiring morning she’d ever had. This was living in the moment.
She made her way off the lake and was downtown; she aimed the tip of her umbrella straight ahead to shield her face and body from the (she later learned, 20-45 mph) gusts. People with less sturdy shields had given up carrying them. Her fingers and hands were aching from holding on so tightly to the handle of the umbrella; her fleece gloves had no traction. The smooth handle slipped around between her grip but she dared not let go.
Three minutes from her building, she entered a wind tunnel between two buildings that caused her to almost flip backwards. Smiling gamely, bracing with all her strength, she eventually turned into slightly calmer air and shut her umbrella and walked the last block swiftly to her building, revolved through the door and relaxed in the shelter of walls. Every morning should be that fantastic, she thought as she rode the elevator, her coat dripping, heart pumping, and cheeks glowing.