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I’m walking to Grand Central Bakery for a Latte. It’s raining. 20130306_113018It’s been raining all morning. I’m wearing my cute, sexy, warm, waterproof Sorel boots.  

As I’m walking down Broadway, I STOMP in a puddle – just a one-footed stomp – and it feels very child-like (in a good way).

So now I’m looking for more puddles. I kick the water in one. I do a 2-footed jump into another – barely avoiding splashing the UPS carrier as she rolls her hand truck across the sidewalk. I don’t look to see her reaction.

I get to thinking about these kid-like behaviors that are joyous and relatively harmless. I wonder if I got “trained” out of such things as puddle-stomping, or maybe I simply outgrew such silliness. And then, 50 years later, I’m compelled to stomp. Ah, the joy and satisfaction of it!

I wonder for a moment (and only a moment) if I look ridiculous to the people in the cars passing by. Then I realize I don’t care.

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