I went for a walk yesterday.
It seemed like a good idea at the time: it was cloudy, but not dark-rain-clouds cloudy. Just a normal gray. It wasn’t even that windy. So I went for a walk.
I will admit, mostly I was looking for Pokemon on Pokemon Go. I love that game. But I brought my journal, because I was planning on sitting in the park for a while and catching up on journaling. I had some thoughts to work through.
And then, as soon as I got to the park, it started raining. No big deal, I thought. It was just little drops, and I love getting wet in the rain. There were still games going on at the baseball fields. It was getting windy, which is never a good sign. I started to walk the walking path. By the time I hit the first turn, it was raining. The ball players were running for cover. The rain was slanting in the wind. By then it was pouring. I gave up on the enjoyment of getting wet and pulled out my umbrella, which I held at an angle for the rest of the walk because of the wind.
When I got home, everything in my backpack was soaked. I had to peel apart my voter ID, which for some inexplicable reason is not laminated, and lay out my other papers in a row. When I hung my backpack up to dry, it dripped. But my journal seemed dry enough.
When I opened it this morning, though, there was one wet spot, soaked through the bottom of every page. Every page. Some pages were fine, the ink undisturbed, but others were completely illegible blotches of color. It looked like I’d taken watercolor to the bottoms on my journal pages. My words, my thoughts, were erased.
I was surprised how much it hurt. It’s been years since I’ve gone back and read my journals. Sometimes I take notes for projects in there, but none of the notes I still needed had been destroyed by the water. Sometimes I outline bits I may want to come back to later, and some of that was destroyed, but let’s be honest–I have bits from five and ten years ago that I’ve never gone back to, and even more bits that I’ve utterly forgotten.
Still it hurt.