Day 30: Raindays and Jazz

The other night I was thrust awake by the smooth sounds of rain.  I jumped up and looked outside.  Expecting to see the demonic storm and one gremlin, like in Amazing Stories with John Lithgow, I actually saw a calm down pour.

This reminded me of a time in college.  I had walked outside of the music building.  My mentor was standing under the overhang.  At the time I had not been introduced.  I remember he turned to me and said wasn't this moment one out of a novel.

The rain was coming down in large amounts but it seemed to drop as soft as feathers.  The moon was up over the redwoods.  The streetlight pierced through the mist, but not enough to fully light the area.  Above is a lit window, cracked open.  The only sound was the soft rain and a small ensemble of musicians playing jazz.  The jazz wafted from the window and joined the rain.  Here I was, standing there, like Guy Noir; like a scene out of some early 20th century detective movie.  It's was a dark and stormy night.

Two things I learned.  The first is to appreciate life and art.  You never know when you are going to be caught up in a moment only a writer or film can, at best, describe.  The second is, you cross paths with many people.  You never know when or how your paths will cross, but someday, some force will help them cross and eventually you will find yourself friends for a very long time.