guess what? it's been raining. fairly steadily, drenching at times, almost every day for a week solid. so much so that we've made the national news- massacusetts and new hampshire having both declared states of emergency. so much so that Meredith, on her way to texas, called from memphis to ask if everything and everyone was all right. and while we here in western massachusetts have been spared much of the flooding so far, the greater state of emergency exists in our battle against the depression that all of this rain inevitably causes.
even those who are generally scary kinds of extra-happy seem to be affected. even the normally WAY too enthusiastic barista at starbucks shrugged half-miserably when i inquired after her well--being. ah, well. as i told her, the rain will have to stop sometime, maybe in a couple of weeks, if we're lucky.
speaking of luck, i absentmindedly opened my umbrella inside the door at woodstar earlier. (yes, i have been to the haymarket too, today. i make it a point to hit up at least three coffee shops on my days off.) also absentmindedly, since there were children present, i said, "fuck! i'm inside! seven MORE years..." i must have appeared to be one of northampton's famous crazies, because i then said, "oops!" and rolled my eyes at myself. but as i left in search of my next coffee fix, i contemplated what the counter--curse for opening umbrellas inside might be. i once heard that the way to counteract the bad luck caused by breaking a mirror is to leave the shatters undisturbed for a period of time, perhaps until sundown, and _then_ sweep them up. maybe i should burn the offending umbrella. wiith my luck, i'd start a brush fire, even in all of this rain.
then i thought about my own bad luck- every little bit, all the way from my health struggles to all the times my poker buddies have bafflingly sucked out against me on the river. it's at these times that i feel most sorry for myself. woe is me. and then i try to remember all the years that i was completely "healthy" and friendless, and think about how very fortunate i am, to still be alive, after all that i've been through, physically, and the fact that i have friends who do great things (like edit my book or record my album or take me cell phone shopping or send me sweet surprises) is nothing if it's not lucky.
i think i'm finally figuring out that it's not necessarily that i'm unlucky, but that my life is all about extremes.
without having tangled with death so many times, i would not be able to appreciate so much of life. every day, i grieve for the friends that i have lost. but every day my heart fills at the love that my friends bring me, whether it's just an email saying hello, or a long night spent drinking in the library at packard's.
when i leave the comfort of this cafe and head out into the cold rain, i'll try to focus on the last sunny day that i rmemeber. i was in the park, jacket-less, trading songs with rockstar Brie of the 50 Ways. a toddler wearing tie-dyed crocs stood in front of her and danced. when she finished, the toddler clapped and was led away by her father."that was awesome," Brie said, laughing. i took off my glasses and stared into the sun.
"definitely," i said.