October 4, 2017
That it might be a bit dicey later in the day was a given, but the morning was so inviting that taking the chance was worth it. I strapped the bass onto the sidecar, tossed my work satchel and bassoon into the tub, and took off up the road. The sky was somewhat overcast, but the air was fresh and cool; just right for a leisurely ride through the countryside.
Stopped for the light at the intersection of routes 60 and 20, a guy in a pickup truck pulls up beside me and starts talking excitedly about my bike. We converse till the light changes, and he pulls away. The next three hours, it sits in the parking lot behind the church while I work. At 2:30 when I leave for my jazz improvisation group, it’s just starting to mist, but I arrived and unloaded before any serious rain hit. For the next two hours, I didn’t care how much it rained, and when it was time to come home, the skies had cleared, and the ride home was as enjoyable as my early morning jaunt. I wouldn’t have minded riding in the rain; I’ve done that before, but I sure don’t want my 1936 bass to get wet!
Tonight, my thankfulness is for the small blessing of a break in the rain just when I needed it most. No big, earthshaking miracle, but when so much tragedy has been played out before our eyes for the past three weeks, even small blessings are more than welcome; they are wisps of hope in a dark and dreary world.
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