Tonight I said, “Sure, I’ll walk with you.”
This is so unlike me. I enjoy my solitary walks across the medical center campus long after sunset – the way the lights circle the tree trunks along the greenway, a little bit of cheer among a sometimes cheer-less day. I’ve been known to stay later simply for this time alone.
Today I had plans for the same. I had bottled up my frustrating moments of the day, ready to release streaming tears down my face as I walked, a therapy in itself. But tonight I said, “Sure.”
We walked side by side with faces pointing forward, the unexpected rain pouring down around us, jackets pulled tightly around our bodies protecting from the wind. We talk, without seeing, about clinical rotations, plans for the upcoming months, the insanity of it all. We laugh when the cars driving by send waves crashing up and over the curb, threatening what little of us is still dry.
We parted ways on the third floor with a smile and see you tomorrow. My face is damp when I reach my car. From the rain this time, not from my overflowing overwhelm. And I’m glad that I said, “Sure.” I’m glad that you asked.