Cometh the Rain

It was another steamy hot July afternoon when I left work and by the time I reached the intersection, the a/c was blowing fast and furious but had barely de-fogged my sunglasses. I almost didn't see the man on the corner. He was tall and rail-thin, wearing blue jeans and sporting a bright red t shirt with a white Nike logo, barefoot and holding a hand lettered sign that read “Cometh the Rain”. With his free hand, he was making the hand signals from “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” and more than one driver was responding in kind. Just another homeless, harmless lunatic, I thought but just in case I hit the door lock button of the little blue car. When you live in a world gone more than slightly mad, there's no percentage in taking risks. The light changed and I pulled away.

I am very much a creature of habit and the very next morning, although coming from the opposite direction, I ended up stopped at the same intersection. This time there was a woman in a coral colored ball gown with a mesh top sitting alone on the bus stop bench. She was delicately holding a filter tip cigarette in one hand and reaching into a bag of Purina One dog treats with the other. I watched her munching casually and when she looked up and saw me, she graciously extended the bag toward me as if to offer me a biscuit. I shook my head and she shrugged her coral covered shoulders and gave me a brilliant smile. I was wondering if she and the Close Encounters man might not be fellow escapees but I couldn't help but smile back.

Life is nothing if not an uncertain adventure. What with malls in foreclosure, stores closing after no more than a few months in business, restaurants failing at record levels and more homes for sale than I can ever remember, our small southern city may be on the brink of dying but at least we'll be entertaining about it and go out with style.