Its odd, the peace that I find myself at.
I felt it walking through the rain. It's 4°C, and pissing down. By rights, I should have been blinking furiously and dashing for the nearest cab. Instead, I walked two miles to the strains of Mark Knopfler.
And Tupac Shakur. Always Tupac Shakur.
It's funny how I always associate Tupac with a certain friend. And our discussions of how most people miss the depth in his lyrics for the paeans to thug life. In fifty years, he will probably be recognised as a poet and a deep mirror to his time. A rose from concrete, indeed.
It also reminded me of another friend, who once lent me his bike for a period of time. I would ride through town, extremely poor, on a borrowed bike, to pick up and drop the better half home, after a day's work. This all seems highly incongruous, given the fact that I am both horrible with as well as deathly afraid of bikes. But love will do that to you.
It strikes me every time it rains, because I rode that bike through all sorts of wretched weather and general flooded potholery. And I envied people in their cars, smug and warm, while I generally felt poor. Of course, this was before I came into my purple patch and began buying cars and generally living the life.
And to this day, every time it rains and I'm outside, whether I'm walking or in a car, or even on a train, I smile to myself and remember the guy who gave his bike to a kid without asking.
There is always good in the world.
And maybe that's why I'm at peace for now.
