The Umbrella Had No Business

Third of October and the wind has opinions. I was standing at the crosswalk on the corner near the community center, the one with the busted signal that takes forever, and the guy next to me had one of those big golf umbrellas that you always think must be nice to have right up until one inverts violently and catches you across the left cheekbone. Which is what happened. To me. Today.

He was so genuinely horrified that I actually felt bad for him. He said sorry four times before I could get a word in, and the word I was going to say was 'oh' so I'm not sure it would have helped. The umbrella had fully given up, inside out and listing sideways, and the two of us stood there in this brief shared crisis while the light changed and a woman with a stroller just walked around us like this was normal. Maybe it was. I don't know what normal looks like on that corner anymore.

Still replaying it over a coffee.

I went into the coffee shop on the next block because I needed a minute and also because the wind was genuinely winning and I wasn't ready to keep negotiating with it. Stood inside the door for a second, hair everywhere, coat crooked, trying to decide if I was okay or just startled. I was fine. I bought a coffee I hadn't budgeted for and sat with it at the counter until I stopped replaying the moment the umbrella hit me and started finding it funny instead, which took about one and a half songs on the radio and roughly two thirds of the cup.

Decided it was a funny story by the time I got to the door.

I am currently sitting at the kitchen table with Gerald in my peripheral vision putting out what I am fairly sure is another new leaf, and I want it noted for the record that the pothos is doing considerably better than the umbrella. Or the man holding the umbrella. Or my left cheekbone, honestly, which is fine, but still. Today had a whole arc and I did not ask for it. I do not regret the coffee.