Soaked in San Ysidro

I''There is a destiny that makes us brothers;
None goes his way alone:
All that we send into the lives of others
Comes back into our own.''

I am a 62 year old senior new to Social Security and Trolley discounts on the fabulous San Diego system.
Most days in San Diego are paradise.
Friday wasn’t one of them.
The trolley dropped me off in San Ysidro and I was ready for my 2 mile walk to my home.
What I wasn’t ready for a wallop of a storm, the worst here in years which had the kids from the local middle school I passed screaming for their lives, as if they were avoiding a tidal wave.
It became a parking lot on the normally quiet Otay Mesa Road as the rain came down in all directions, soaking me to the bone.
I had taken the trolley to Fashion Valley Mall earlier that afternoon to my favorite Chinese eatery.
Now I desperately clutched the precious leftovers to my bosom as they were assaulted with raindrops.
The paper bag had no chance as it suddenly erupted like an embolism in my arms.
I juggled to save the food from hitting the ground.
Fortunately, an additional plastic bag which I had purchased for some non-food items saved the day.

I knelt on the wet ground and carefully repacked my packages of egg rolls, shrimp fried rice and spare ribs into the plastic bag and brought the contents to my chest.
I was breathing heavily.
I looked up.
The rain continued to come down in torrents.
I figured I still had a mile to go until I made it home.
I had my one warning.
The next bag to go would take the food with it.
It was me against the storm now.
Suddenly, I noticed a white and blue cab inching forward in traffic just ahead of me.
I darted into traffic and after several attempts, managed to reach the passenger side and bang on the window.
A Latin man with gray in his beard manually rolled down the window and shook his head at me.
He wasn’t picking up fares.
“What!” I shouted incredulously. Let me get out of this storm!
Again, he motioned to the wall to wall traffic he was negotiating and refused to let me seek shelter from the storm.
I thought of my favorite poem by Edward Markham, which I had taught for years.
I''There is a destiny that makes us brothers;
None goes his way alone:
All that we send into the lives of others
Comes back into our own.''

Clearly, the taxi driver never understood the meaning of this poem.
I stopped for more air and trudged on.
Cradling the plastic bag, now fully filled with food, made it difficult to walk.
Still, I had to make it.
I wouldn’t quit.
Then, the words of a sweet dove filled the air.
“Do you want a ride?”
The angel drove an ordinary black SUV.
I opened a door to the backseat and joined her sleeping infant in his car seat.
A teen daughter who she had just picked up sat up front next to her mom.
I thanked her for helping me.
She smiled.
She insisted on taking me to my house.
I asked her name.
“Patty.”
My eyes brined with happy tears.
“Thank you for what you did today, Patty. You know the good you did today will come back to you in some way.
She smiled.
I could tell she was most pleased that I had said those words.
Patty might think she would never hear a word thanks again after what she did during the storm
I hope she gets to read this thank you.
I''There is a destiny that makes us brothers;
None goes his way alone:
All that we send into the lives of others
Comes back into our own.''
My new friend Patty didn’t have to hear those words which touch me so deeply.
She lives them.
Now, I am home.
My drenched clothes go into the wash and my Chinese food made it to the protective services of my mini-fridge.
I lie down on my bed and like many 62 year old men, I am soon fast asleep.
I dreamed of my dinner I would enjoy when I woke up.
Chinese food.
Life was good.