Rain on My Glasses

Yesterday on the moors, beauty and discomfort arrived together.

The cold air smelled alive.
The hills still held colour, even under the grey.
Muted golds, deep greens, dark water gathering itself in the valley.

And then there was the rain on my glasses.

Not enough to send us home,
but enough to interrupt the view in wet little blurs.

Beauty, broken into droplets.

The wind came from every direction, looping around me as if the moors themselves were moving. My face froze. My coat darkened with rain. The track turned slick beneath my boots, asking for concentration at the same time my mind wanted to drift out toward the reservoir.

My hips began to ache. The irritation rose with the weather. I could feel anger building alongside awe.

I wanted to turn back.
I wanted to keep going.
I was having fun.
I was not having fun.
And that is the part that felt most like my AuDHD life.

The simultaneous truth of delight and overwhelm.
Joy and friction.
Wonder and interruption.

Sometimes the beauty is still there,
even when the rain on your glasses makes it harder to see.

— Frost ❄️