I needed coffee. Two weeks away left the old grounds stale. With 13 bucks stashed in my small pocket, I stopped by my favorite outlet for a quick grind (1 lb. Arabian Mocha Java) and a free cup to go, at the tail end of my AM run. And I felt lucky. Lucky to live in such a wonderful country.
As I crossed the street a set of emergency vehicles, sirens full scream, blazed up the road. Responding to, perhaps, another alarm and cry for help. Again, I felt lucky, and thankful that my tax dollars support such services. Simultaneously, I was ashamed for people who spend a great deal of energy (and large sums of money to their accountants) skirting their responsibility to pay their taxes.
With the political scene fouled with so much negativity, partisan power plays and top-level smear and run leak campaigns, it is easy to slip into a negative perspective and take all for granted. That we actually have government that can be replaced without violence, again, I feel lucky.
For the roads, the trails, and the parks and the beaches; for my family and friends; for the police and fire fighters, and even in spite of recent terrorist attacks abroad, I feel relatively safe, again, I feel lucky.
To have been born here, in this country, indeed, I am lucky, and thankful. But for one small twist of fate, I could have been born to some other family, some other state.