My Umbrella

My Umbrella It was the reason for everything, needed, that had any value. It started with rain, on a Sunday morning. It moved to the car, that would not start. Then there was a man, a stranger, an unexpected hero. He stopped when no one would. He waded through the unyielding, onslaught of heavy laden, ice drops. Drenched. My tire, it was flat. Kissed the pavement as if it would never let go. He was not happy, but perserverant. I tried to pay him. He would not take a dime. I waved good-bye, as his big truck rolled away. Then I noticed, my dry umbrella. It was on the floor by the door. I bowed my head. I prayed, Lord, keep that hero dry, and safe, this day, this night, this storm, the next… forever! Amen.