Sometimes — during a Florida summer, a lot of times
— it starts to rain at an inconvenient moment.

Yesterday while I biked my errands, it began to pour.

My extensive to-do list? Interrupted.

So I pulled over and took shelter under the awning of an office building on east University.

I leaned my bike against the wall and sat on the concrete, earbuds in, and watched the rain come down, the steam rise from the road, and the cars swoosh by.

Fifteen minutes later, it continued.

“Fuck it.”

I got back on and biked on
in the downpour toward my next destination.

It’s these moments when shit sucks
that are sometimes the sweetest.

I am alive.

I don’t know why but it is a sweet reminder that arises at the least convenient moments: Praise the skies, I am alive.