Two magical things happened yesterday. One, my car wouldn't start (not the magic part). If you know me, then you know I love my car, but we've had a rough old year together. So, of course, I assumed the worst.
Well, then, wasn't it the most magical gift to hear that it was merely a corroded connection, and that the grand total for the repair was under 50 dollars? It was one of the highlights of my year, I tell you.
The second magical thing happened in the middle of the night--the power went out (again, not the magical part). All I could think about (after hoping it wasn't an accident and, if it was, that everyone was okay) was how this new thing would change my routine, how I have to hustle differently, and then (of course) I lay awake for hours, trying to read myself back to sleep.
And then I slept and I dreamed the power came on (as you do). When I woke up, I reminded myself not to get my hopes up, but then there it was--the streetlamp (the one I complain about being too bright--never again) shining through my window, and I tell you, it was like those old Santa-believing Christmas mornings.
I know. I'm a terrible storyteller, but the moral of this one is that magic exists. We're so wrapped up in our catastrophic thinking, in our egocentric anxieties to realize it, but I tell you, I believe. And I'm going to do my best to realize it.