By Kim kjagain Moes

I am sopping wet, standing alone in the park, watching your tail lights disappear. My heart thunders against my chest, lightning prickles behind my eyes. I look left and right yet there is no place to hide from the rain. Wet hair plastered to my face, socks squish-squashing with every step, I walk deeper into the park. 

Your green wool sweater and my faded blue jeans cling to me, weighing me down. I shed the waterlogged sweater, dropping it on the field. The cool droplets caress my skin through my thin t-shirt, offering a hint of renewal. 

I kick off my running shoes. The sound of them bouncing and hitting the wet ground creates a cross-rhythm with the precipitation and my heartbeat. With my shoes removed and silenced, I am free to rid myself of these soaked jeans you gave me last Christmas. I wiggle and squirm until one of my ankles becomes caught for a moment. My balance defends me and I catch myself before falling. 

Clad only in low-rise biker shorts and a t-shirt, I lift my chin and close my eyes, embracing the sky’s summer shower. I take ownership of my rain, my tears, my road to happiness. 

The air’s electricity surges through bare feet into my body, giving me strength and desire to take each additional step on the rain-soaked ground. As the sky continues to pour, I walk out of the park, toward the unknown, ready for whatever comes next. It was never about whether the grass was greener on this side or that side, as your endless pursuit has taught us both. Now, I realize, it is about how the grass feels between my toes as I walk through it.

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Kim kjagain Moes loves dandelions, exploring fresh places, and laughing at herself. Her work can be found online and in print, most recently in Jake Magazine. @kjagain on almost all social media. On writing, she says, “Write the life we live, explore the lessons not yet learned, and then, eat catharsis for dinner.”