The rain fell steady that night. He opened the window and could feel the moisture in the air. He turned the lights down low and listened as nonfiction drifted out from the speakers.
The acoustic guitar, bass and harmonica all drifting in together.
He put down his phone and sat on the floor at the side of the bed, looking up through the big bay window at the grey sky and rain tapping on the window.
He loved the rain.
Was just as well living around here because you certainly got plenty of it.
He found it comforting. Reassuring.
Better than melting beneath a 30 degree sun. He wasn’t made for that.
The piano started up in the chorus, notes dancing around the vocal.
He picked up his acoustic and played along with the record listening to Chris Robinson’s soulful tones.
His head back against the bed. He just breathed.
Sometimes living wasn’t easy. But small moments made it worthwhile.
Like hearing Jimi Hendrix for the first time.
Or a Joe Perry guitar solo.
Or hearing ‘talking about a revolution’ for the first time.
He tapped his foot along to the beat. He opened his eyes and saw a bus rolling up the street.
Soon there would be work to do. Responsibilities to meet.
But for now.
Just breathe.
(c) Paul Andrew Sneddon
Paul Andrew Sneddon 