The first gravel stretch ascending The Mount the other night was met with the lightest droplets speckling my face, from an approaching rain cloud. I looked over to my left and a grey beast was travelling thick and fast across the sea. Two minutes later and my singlet clung to my back while wisps of wet hair whipped my forearm. Head bowed down, I carried on up the stairs.
“You don’t need your sunnies now”, a lady said smiling.
I rubbed the moisture from them and put them back on.
“I don’t want my mascara to run.”
Everyone was sopping wet and I didn’t want Dior Show Black Out to slide down my cheeks and scare the life outta people. Halloween was a couple of weeks ago.
I pushed on through and near the peak, the rain petered out and I was greeted with the feeling of warmth at the summit. Despite the downpour people seemed genuinely happy, as the panorama was something precious to behold. Inky blues and greys with pockets of filtered light dotted over the sea. I stood in awe.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” came from a bright coral smile behind me.
Funny, she was voicing the exact words that were resonating around in my head.
“It is when you get to wake up in this place every day”, said the man.
I nodded because I agreed with the sentiment, but also because that even though it had just bucketed down, there were others thinking along the same wavelength as me; confirmation of mutual optimism.
I smiled too because I knew I was not alone. Mr T was there in the cheeky tui ducking and diving, my older brother was there in the rainbow that had started over Papamoa beach, my fitness buddy C was there pushing me up while it was p*ssing down, and dad’s voice encouraged “Yoohoo! Go Rabee!”
It is times like these that I feel no fault in the world. It’s an incredibly beautiful place and I am lucky to be here.