It's been a very nice day.
The weather was pleasant, and lent itself to more walking that I usually do on any given day.
Early morning business was handled with ease. It was so easy, I was almost mad at myself for procrastinating.
I ran into an old friend, and enjoyed reminiscing, but not hearing about the losses she's suffered in her family. However, it's always amazing how encouraging and positive and helpful people can be, when they’ve lost so much.
I discovered a new popcorn brand, Rocky Mountain, at Union Station (Yes. That's a big deal. Have you met me?), did some window shopping, found an elusive action figure for a steal at F.Y.E. (which will significantly increase my "cool aunt" points, I hope), and navigated the Metro--well sort of.
I don't remember the last time I was on the subway.
I will hop into a taxi in a heartbeat, but today, I thought, "Take the train for a change."
I used a Smart Trip card for the first time. I'm sure I looked like a tourist, and had to ask for directions.
I think the last time I rode the Metro, specifically at Union Station, was in 1977 when my big sister thought it would be fun to take a ride —before the system was completed.
It's still quiet and clean.
After I exited the Red Line train, with every intention to go straight home, I admit I enjoyed my accidental ride on the Yellow Line.
The views of the city on trains headed to Virginia are beautiful, but I wasn't supposed to be seeing them. I was supposed to be on the Green Line.
I got off of the train at Pentagon City, thought about going to the mall, but changed my mind.
I got back on the Yellow Line train headed in the opposite direction, and was determined to pay attention. Color codes really are our friends.
I rode the train all the way to Southern Avenue Station, and boarded a bus that I was sure would take me practically to my doorstep. Instead, I ended up taking a nice 7 or so block walk home.
I patronized stores in my neighborhood that I'd never entered before. I remembered how often I used to walk or ride my bike on the same streets, when I was a kid.
To add to the day's niceness, I got a call from someone whose testimony of healing was only eclipsed by the fact that he had a voice; I could actually hear and recognize his voice.
Once again, the one who I should have been lifting up was, instead, blessing and encouraging me.
I'm more convinced than ever, that things really don't happen accidentally...: )
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