And It Was Beautiful

It was rainy grey this Saturday.

The rain was soothing as I detoured earlier, around the buildings instead of on the covered bridge. I looked up at the new structure reaching the skies, checking it out between falling drops. Battery Park City. Downtown. Always changing. I looked down and notice the stone blocks beneath, spots of red line the triangle walkway, bright tulips swaying in the wet breeze.

I made my way inside and stood at the balcony waiting to see his familiarness, picturing a figure walking through those glass doors with a smile on his face, black umbrella in hand. I waited.

Moments later we make our way up and in, settling into seats with the perfect view. Moments later again, we slip into the story engrossed but aware, side by side, the rhythm etched into the fabric of this rainy grey Saturday, happily munching on popcorn while sipping clear soda.

After the ending, we walked back to Chinatown. I misjudged the weather and he let me borrow his jacket, big, yellow and warm. We ate dinner at his local favorite and it was delicious. Nighttime appeared and we were homebound trekking through puddles in the dark. Braving damp subway stations, longing for the warmth and dry comfort of home.

It was rainy grey this Saturday. And it was beautiful.