Our text exchange goes like this:
“Rainy!”
“Noooo”
I sent a picture of the two drops on my windshield. It’s not bad, I think. But as a turn onto Douglas, what had been gentle turned relentless.
Earlier in the day, I was chilling in Elena’s room, watching her play with the different locks and latches in her “secret box,” which reminds me of how much older she is. She stays three extra minutes with the most challenging little door.
Ping. Amy enters the day. Of course, she does a day before this challenge begins.
We talk about scheduling posts, lesson-planning memories, and other updates. She then suggests we should look at upcoming weekends to make plans. We haven’t spent time just the two of us in a while. I say, “I’m free today!”
“We could get lunch!”
We’re on.
After a surprisingly fun and longer-than-expected trip to the library with Elena, I serve her lunch and head out. Tim reminds me to take as long as I want because he knows I often rush back home.
So I didn’t.
The sky didn’t either.
The rain fell heavy on our umbrellas and splashed its way up our legs.
Soaked feet.
Quick pace.
Umbrellas low.
I let Amy walk ahead a bit so the water bouncing off my umbrella wouldn’t land on her back. She led the way to the Peruvian restaurant, carefully avoiding deeper puddles. I let my feet sink in them. Laughter.
I had saved several ideas for my first slice for this year’s challenge. Seeing my days through this lens is now more of a habit, so there were several to choose from. But this one, the image of Amy and me walking in the downpour, felt right.
As I enter year 3, I want slices to surprise me. I want to be less prepared, less planned, more likely to walk straight into the puddle.
Start with a Story 
I love your idea of letting the story find you. Taking the pressure off and looking at days with different lenses! I’m looking forward to all the slices 🙂
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Ana, I can hardly contain my giddiness as I write a comment to your first slice of this challenge. Me. Here. You. There. And your delightful first slice. It feels like I have launched from a starting line…but it’s not a race…it’s the beginning of a wonderful journey (maybe that’s why I named my blog..a writing journey). Like you, I want this process of being in community with other writers to surprise me and challenge me…and most importantly, bring me a new joy for writing (and sharing) in community. Thank you for being a part of my journey! Happy slicing! (And thank you for responding so quickly to my panicked email…so appreciated!)
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There is a mood and sense of lingering in all that is good here in your slice – the library, the rain, the togetherness. Like stirring a cup of delicious hot tea and steeping in the moment, sipping every drop.
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Me encantó!! Me las imagino mojadas y con frío en el restaurante pero hablando sin parar!
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I read your slice, and all I can think is: “Will I ever write as well as her?” Loved it!
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I am looking forward to hearing more of your days (and Elena’s.) And, most of all, how you take in ordinary moments and make them so meaningful!
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I love those last lines and the reminder to let slices surprise us. I think this is the one downside of waking up early to write — because slices find us throughout the day!
Yesterday’s downpour was so hilarious, and that laughter was much needed. Our hang was a nice surprise too! Maybe your reminder is not just for writing, but for life.
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A perfect beginning. Here’s to letting the stories find us!
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I too want my “slices to surprise me. I want to be less prepared, less planned, more likely to walk straight into the puddle.” The magic of this month has been the noticing with a “writerly” eye!
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Ana you share a good strategy for this month. “I want slices to surprise me. I want to be less prepared, less planned, more likely to walk straight into the puddle,” a great metaphor.
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