Any time I step into a blast of wind, I wonder if being thin is over-rated.

This morning as I exited the Oak Street parking garage, I felt the strong pull of the air which whistles between the courthouse and the old library building.  I clutched my handbag and the Vera Bradley in which my new little laptop rides.  Pulling my feet a bit further apart, I started across the street.  On the other side, I met a man in an impeccably tailored three-piece suit with a tall stack of document boxes on a dolly.  Recognizing a brother at the bar, I smiled and made some remark about the difficulty I had had crossing the road.  We laughed, and then started toward the courthouse together.

Standing at the elevator chatting with him, I couldn’t help noticing his accent.  I asked about his country of origin and then, when he responded with a pleasant tone, his length of time in America.  As we waited together, he mentioned the weather and I responded, as I’ve come to respond more frequently, that I was pleased to have awakened one more day regardless of the mildly daunting prospect of the windy weather.

Oh, yes, he responded.  Another gift from God.  We exchanged bright looks and comfortable smiles just as a few more people joined us and the elevators arrived to take us upstairs.

And now I am sitting in a courtroom, listening to a kind and competent young judge plow through the docket.  I am early, as I always am, but this gives me no concern.  With the half hour that I’ve got until my client arrives and my case is called, I’m content to sit and think.

Or maybe, just sit.  And breathe.