Blustery. That would be an understatement. Earlier, at the pier, it was treacherous. Here, just a few blocks inland? Darn near treacherous. Let’s call it… a dark and stormy night.

It’s 5:15pm. In the van, the chaotic tapping of the rain takes on an oddly rhythmic beat. Starting faintly in the background, the drumming mysteriously growing louder and louder until it’s revealed as to why. The marching rhythm was, indeed, feet splashing and crashing down the middle of the river-like street as sheets of rain flowed powerfully down the slight incline of this residential road.

A man is racing through the darkness towards the gas station at the top of the hill. The”Closed” sign reflecting it’s neon brightness in the mirror of the shining cement pad out front. As the man approaches the locked doors of the seemingly empty dark and quiet gas station, he knocks twice and lifts up the empty, freshly bathed, gas can he is carrying. A man, his silhouette appears from behind a door in the darkness. He unlocks the entry, greets his neighbor with a smile and steps outside to fill the other man’s gas can. They banter back and forth before waving goodbye to each other, both returning to their own respective activities. One blessed by the other. The other a blessing to the one. Or perhaps both… both. Kindness. A light in the dark. ❤️ Thank you, small town America.