I was telling someone about my commute on a rainy Tuesday last summer, and he told me that riding the train in the rain sounded romantic, like something out of a movie. I laughed, and told him that it wasn’t so much romantic as it was damp.
But it is beautiful, I’ve never been able to deny that. Not beautiful like you’d find in the Louvre or magazines, but beautiful the way life is when you realize This is it. Beautiful the way it is when you understand that the scraps and absurdities that make up our day to day actually make up our whole lives. Because our day to day is all we have. Thanks to the spring rain, the world is finally turning green again, and if that’s not a miracle I don’t know what is.
So today, I hope you love it. I hope you love your commute, and your long hours. I hope you love who you come home to, and I hope you tell them so. I hope you are romanced by the world around you: the way the rain falls, the eyes of a girl in the subway, the architectural details of the office building on the corner. Somebody built that. I hope you hold fast to passion and strip down to authenticity. I hope you work like the bird building his nest: determinedly, and singing all the way home. And when the spring rain kisses your cheeks, I hope you blush as green as the earth in April.