Running in the Rain

It’s late as I walk with my friend through the downtown streets of Montreal after enjoying outdoor events in the Old Port. We come upon a plaza in the center of Place Ville Marie. I recall coming here for years when it was only concrete. Now I see trees, large expanses of grass and flowering hedges. A fountain splashes around the graceful sculpture of a woman. We settle ourselves at the edge to enjoy the sound of rushing water.

As it’s a warm night, we both kick off our sandals and dangle our feet in the slightly chlorinated pool at the base. The coolness refreshes me.

From our vantage spot, we look up McGill College Avenue to see all the restaurants and street lamps, then beyond to Mount Royal (mountain in the center of the city) and the lighted cross at the top. Sitting here feels magical.

I mention how I miss swimming and wish I could immerse my whole body in water right now. As though the heavens heard me, the skies open and a few drops of rain quickly turn into a torrent.

We need to head for the subway but it continues to pour, bouncing water off the pavement. So we walk and run along Ste Catherine Street, getting thoroughly drenched. I see the water drip through my friend’s hair and down his face and feel it sliding over mine. Everything I have on is wet but it no longer seems to matter.

I remember running barefoot in the rain as a child, holding my hands up to the sky. Now, as then, I feel exhilarated.