Inspite of the Rain

So imagine this situation:

As the rain pounds on the roof above and splatters against the front window, a young, pregnant mother quietly comes into the front room and gently asks if you are still ok with picking up her two and a half year old daughter from school.  As the rain continues to play in the background and the sharp wind hears its cue to join the orchestra, you know that backing out isn’t an option.  You pull on your boots and raincoat, grab the bike key, smile at her apologetic look, and brace yourself for what awaits you beyond the door. 

You peddle along to the preschool, remorsefully recalling the beautiful summer days when bright sun soaked into your knees instead of chilly rain soaking your entire body.  You pull the map written on a post-it note out of your pocket only to find that what was once damp is now running with ink.  So, going off your memory, you park and lock the bike, go through a million gates that are meant to keep toddles in, but actually probably allow the children to play longer in wait as their parents struggle with the physics of latch gates.  Anyway, finally you find the classroom, smile as the teacher goes off in Dutch to you, grab the hand of the already bundled up little girl, and waddle back through the hallways looking like a drowned mouse leading a little green marshmallow on legs. 

If you thought everything so far was exciting, here’s the climax: your mission is to put a two and a half year old girl on the back of your bike (not to mention the fact that the true owner of the bike is much taller than you) and peddle the bike uphill in the rain back to the house.  Knowing that this is your only option, you lock her in, mount the bike and promptly reach a traffic light where you are forced to give up your momentum and jump of the cliff of a bike seat.  After accumulating a little more water in your already drenched outfit, you somehow get back up on the bike and peddle onwards and upwards, watching with a determined and keen eye for the house to appear over the brink of the hill.

The thing is, though, that even as you are peddling along in the shower with a wiggly little creature on the back forcing you to rigorously twist the handle bars back and forth to remain upright, there is still a smile on your face.  Who else can say that they had the freedom to play mother, to serve, to work out their leg muscles, and to wash their clothes for free in the middle of one of the most beautiful cities in Europe with a laughing little girl who thinks the world of you and wants to share her joy and innocence with you as a companion?