I sat on a bench in the rain, watching the wind and the right lane of traffic fight enthusiastically over a paper coffee cup.
As it danced between the solid white line and dozens of wet tires, I began to sympathize with the cup. It had been carelessly tossed aside after briefly providing some comfort and nourishment to an individual and soon, it would inevitably be crushed between the treads of a 4 ton monster, never to be thought of again. It was certainly not going to recover and provide another person with its warm comforting presence.
This made me sad.
I fetched the cup from the grasp of the next eastern breeze. It was wet, cold and close to returning to its pulpy state.
I dried off a small spot on the side of the cup, drew a heart with my sharpie and placed it in the recycling bin. Sometimes I think about the cup. Sounds daft, of that I'm aware. But in a sense I have a bond with it.
Somewhere out there, that cup is something new. I hope, something cherished and loved.
I hope someday to be someone new, cherished and loved, but first I need to get out of the rain.