For two consecutive mornings, the sun has come out at sunrise. Doesn’t sound like much of a feat unless you have been a party to its daily dose of cloud cover for far too long. Sometimes you have to be grateful for the smallest of things.
Rain is back in the forecast for this afternoon/evening. Even so, I’m beyond grateful for the temporary break. The sun began to greet me on the trip in, a small sunbeam focusing with laser-like precision on my face. It was so intense, it distracted me from my Kindle (and a rereading of Sinclair Lewis’ Babbitt) long enough to don sunglasses.
It was becoming so bright as we trundled into downtown that it cast an eerie glow around Homeless Guy who was sitting on a bench, his giant quilt still rumpled before him. (Normally, he is still inside it, huddled next to the adjacent steam vent as we pass.)
As I depart the bus, I am greeted by not one, but two bus drivers passing by, both of them former drivers of either my route in or out of downtown. Vita waves wildly and honks as I cross in front of her stopped bus. As he passes, Jimmy throws open his door, waves and shouts, “Mornin’, Sweetie!” I gladly return both their greetings.
Those exchanges garner me a concentrated stare from Chicken Man, one of the street vendors. He is parked on the corner, still sitting in his SUV before starting to set up his grill where he cooks brats and chicken for the lunch crowd. (I see this guy just about every day and have even attempted a few “good mornings.” He is not a friendly dude. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt though. Maybe he hasn’t had his coffee yet – it is only 6:45, after all.)
In the next block, I recognize one of the security guards as he exits Starbuck’s. He grins and waves with his free hand. As he rounds the corner, a maid from one of the hotels appears. We exchange smiles as we pass.
As I enter the store downstairs to claim my own cup of coffee, M.’s familiar voice bellows, “Good mooooooooooornin!” from the back of the store. That makes me grin and I yell back. The only truly unfriendly morning exchange comes from the coffee machine.
Instead of sputtering and drizzling a stream of cappuccino down my hand (per usual) before beginning to fill my cup, it employs a new tact: It stalls – and then erupts with a stream that jumps over the cup and pours onto the floor – and my feet.
Not enough to dampen my mood though. It’s going to be a good day. Hope you have one, too.