On a windy night

This is (just a small part) of how blessed I am:
I am a little late leaving work. Since I’m taking a day off tomorrow, I had to tie up my loose ends early and make sure I left my superiors no regrets for giving me said day off. It is dark, but warm, when I slip out of my cubicle onto the streets of Capitol Hill. I remember that I have a few errands to run. Thankfully, I don’t need to hail a taxi or even sweet-talk a roommate into driving me somewhere. Most of my immediate needs can be met within walking distance.
I stroll down Penn Ave, dodging staffers and tourists, and stop at my bank for some cash. Further down, I encounter a group of Southern teenagers standing outside of Good Stuff Eatery. The surprisingly strong wind gusts suddenly, which causes some sort of giant tin vat to tumble off the roof and crash to the brick sidewalk with a loud BANG. I’m not sure if the teenagers or their chaperones are more on edge. It seems that strong wind and falling objects are a sign of the apocalypse.
The bars and restaurants are considerably busy tonight. Thursday is the new Friday, after all, and the House only had one very early series of votes today – freeing staff to enjoy each other’s company. Those joining me on the sidewalk seem more engaged than usual. The wind seems to have a positive effect on their countenance, as if clearing the cobwebs from their cluttered minds along with the very air they breathe. Many of them are smiling, as if the power of something not seen, but felt, is awakening a feeling they once had in a dream.
I reach the convenience store by the Eastern Market Metro and find it in its usual state of chaos. Probably the most well-lit CVS for miles, this one is particularly popular among my demographic, and everyone is scrambling for Valentine’s candies and prescriptions and chips and makeup. I grab batteries (for my camera) and athletic tape (I still don’t know how I hurt my ankle) and head to the check-out line. It goes much faster than usual, and the young man who scanned my items is particularly nice.
I cross to the other side of Penn for the journey back (change of scenery, you know – and the lights were green that way). I pass a Mexican restaurant filled with memories, and consider all the local establishments so treasured in my mind. I am blessed to have been here so long.
I pass the beautiful Episcopal church on Third Street, Saint Mark’s. I’ve always liked the building, and tonight I am delighted to hear organ music from the sanctuary. I go up to the doors, big wooden doors with elegant iron work edging, and find a bill posted: “Concert Tonight: Music at St. Mark’s.” I’m tempted to go in, but I do have packing and dishes to do.
And I realize that my foot doesn’t hurt anymore. Good thing I spent $6 on athletic tape.
Now I walk among the old townhouses, also full of memories, but not mine. I look inside any open window (Sarah taught me to do this) and find, as always, so many of the houses stunningly appointed. They contain wood staircases and fireplaces and giant mirrors and beautiful paintings. I pass a lobby firm’s corner office, and a guy about my age is waiting inside – clearly a greeter for some event. He looks at me as if he expects me to enter, but I just smile back and continue on.
Very familiar territory now, and finally my apartment. I turn on the radio and tackle the dishes. But I don't mind. Another week has been survived, and I get to escape my reality for a little while this weekend. And that is a blessing indeed.