Puddles

This morning I watched a little girl in yellow gum-boots, a pink skirt, and bright green rain jacket joyfully hop into and through every puddle on the road. It rained all night; the puddles are epic. She was gleeful.

Stomp,stomp, stomp. Splash, splash, splash.

Her arms were waving all around and she wore a big smile. The especially perfect puddle, the biggest, splashiest puddle, she doubled back to, running up the road past her mom and several lesser puddles, to jump into it again.

As adults we see puddles as obstacles. One more thing  to deal with, to work around, to manage. I resolve to see puddles, real and metaphorical, as things of joy. I still need to get through them but what fun can I have along the way?