Tonight I arrived back at the flat after getting together with a couple of friends in Canary Wharf, but I wasn't ready to go inside yet. It was chilly in the best way, the chill of river winds and almost-spring. I walked to the side of the building that faces the Thames and sat down on the bench of sorts - it's basically a rectangular slab of marble that alternately serves as a bench, picnic table, sunbathing spot, skateboarding obstacle, neutral location for break-ups and romantic spot for make-ups. For me, it's a good spot to take deep breaths and talk to God.
Tonight I did some of that, but then I just listened and watched. At night if you stop to pay attention, in every direction all you can hear are sirens. Police sirens, ambulances, fire engines. Sirens all over London. Sirens representing people in physical or emotional trouble all over London. I don't know why I am the one who gets to live by the river, to have friends who love me and do not harm me, while someone else must be the reason for the sirens. This is when grace is a little hard to receive.