Only Way Out Is Through

“We’ll decide at the entrance to the park,” I say, “and if it’s still raining we can go home.”

The clouds above us move fast, swiftly shifting from deep gloom to patchy blue and back, so that by the time we get to the statue of Lafayette, the rain has let up enough for us to risk it, and we turn left into the park to continue our walk.

But the vagaries of meteorology play havoc with us, and by the time we’re halfway to the pond, the rain has returned, cold, splattery, and uncomfortable.

Katie is being a trooper, even though she’s clearly not having a good time, but when I apologize and offer to head home, she smiles grimly, striding forward, and says, ““This is the way home.”