“What’s the weather going to be like today?” The Boy asks as he gets dressed in the morning.
“Calls for a chance of rain, supposed to be warm,” I say.
He walks to the car in a heavy sweatshirt and no rain coat. So I ask him why he chose that outfit based on the weather forecast that he just asked for.
“The weathermen are usually wrong,” he replies.
“Well why in the heck did you ask me for the forecast then if you know they’re not very accurate, and when you’re going to disregard what they say anyway?” I ask, slightly irritated.
“I don’t know. I wish they were right. I want them to be right. I just want certainty. I can keep hoping, can’t I? I don’t believe them, but I can hope. So I ask,” he replies.
Yes, yes my child, you can hope, even though your logic doesn’t really make sense. I want you to keep hope alive. And yes, we want certainty. And yes, we rarely get it and life is just a crapshoot anyway, all unpredictable and not-forecasty. Yet we keep asking for the answers, even when we know we won’t get them. There’s comfort in having something to hold on to, even if we know in our hearts it’s not the right answer.
And in the end, I suppose it doesn’t really matter if we’re warned it’s going to rain or not. We can prepare to some extent, but if it’s gonna rain, it’s gonna rain. If it’s not, it won’t. There’s not much we can do about it, and chances are we’ll get a little bit wet anyway even with an umbrella. At least I know my calves always get wet and my hair frizzes something fierce.
We’ll have periods in our lives of high pressure, of gray storm clouds, of days with the sun shining brightly, others with a bit of a mix which can give us a lovely rainbow for a fleeting moment at the end, depending on your perspective, depending on where you’re standing. There’s not much we can do about any of those conditions other than be as prepared as possible, be flexible when our preparations fail us, and look to the sky for a surprise gift every now and then.