Lucky

The sky was clouded, spotted with dark patches between which the sun shone dimly through. The air was humid, hot, and smelled of asphalt and rubber, carrying the sweat and aroma from the patrons of the nearby Tim Horton's.

I jiggled my hand in my pocket, hoping to find enough cash for an ice cappuccino. Only a quarter bounced back eagerly, 25 cents of disappointment. Not nearly enough for anything, except maybe a phone call. I moved on.

Recently, my life has been pretty rough. There are things I've never had to deal with before, and my relationships towards people are changing. Maybe it's me, maybe it's them, maybe it's life. There are times when I feel terrible, like no one gives a shit. It's like being punched in the back - you're never expecting it, and you don't realize it until you're face-down in the dirt. It's a horrible feeling.

There were some chairs set up, facing the lake, and tourists sat there, taking pictures, watching the birds, taking in the sights and sounds. The sidewalk was strewn with sticks, small leaves, cigarette butts. I stepped around all of them, making my way further downtown.

A spatter of rain fell on my cheek. It ran down my neck like a cold, intrusive and unwelcome finger. The consistency of the air changed, heralding a thunderstorm. I hurried for a bus shelter, glad that I spotted one across the street just a few minutes ago.

The change was slight but noticeable. People began to walk briskly, lengthening their pace, and umbrellas appeared as if from nowhere. Taxi drivers looked out their windows, faces eager for rain-fearing customers, anticipating a good haul.

I was so preoccupied with the sky that I almost tripped over a large bundle of rags at the edge of the sidewalk. Annoyed, I started to step over it, when it spoke out to me in a heavy accent. "Hey, got any change?"

Reeling back, I stepped away warily. The bundle unwrapped itself, standing up to reveal a short, untidy man, his beard and hair unkempt, his eyes nestled within like glowing coals. "Got any change?"

He was close enough to smell, and my mind was distracted from his question by his stale stench. Trying to suppress a cough, I shook my head in the universal symbol for "No."

For a few seconds, he stood there, hand outstretched. I could count the wrinkles in his palm. Then he dropped it to his side, turning away from me. I breathed a short sigh of relief, and started to walk away. But before I could, he looked back at me with an odd expression on his face.

"You're very lucky." he said, before disappearing into the crowd.

The quarter in my pocket suddenly felt very heavy.

Am I lucky? I mused to myself, my pace slowing. I've been down there before, long ago. Have I forgotten my roots? My values? Maybe I'm comparing myself to the wrong people. My problems are tough, but I've been through worse and survived, haven't I? I'll be okay.

With a sudden crash, the rain came pouring down. Within seconds, I was soaked, but I still felt like the luckiest person on earth.