When I step outside for a morning walk, I am surprised to see that the ground is wet. I had heard that it was going to rain but didn’t realize it had already come sometime when we were asleep. Silent and unsuspecting, the rain fell to the ground and covered the land, the buildings, the cars. It came and went but left evidence of its visit.
In the air, there is the smell of damp earth and a slight chill from a 10 degree drop in temperature. The air claps my face and startles me awake, my eyes open wide and my back pulls straight.
Perfectly round drops of rain perch on leaves of velvet close to the ground, the cracks between sidewalks are darkened, and cars are covered in hundreds of droplets like a painting by Monet.
I walk down the hill and a love for our neighborhood floods my heart. I collect my coffee from the saintly Japanese woman with tattoos of a cartoonish demon wrapped around her arm. Along the street there is an older man with fashionable sneakers sitting by the bagel shop, waiting for spare change, a line of people waiting for their coffee at another coffee shop across the street, and a laminated menu hanging in the window of a Thai restaurant getting ready for its grand opening in the middle of this pandemic.
mijin kang 