Sunday, November 10, 2013

What I've Never Told You.

What I’ve never told you is I believe in magic. Irrational irrevocable magic.  

The sun, when it shines through the windshield spreading a layer of warmth across my chest -- that’s magic.  That’s the universe cradling me, holding my heart, as I make my way through the world.    

The stars, that twinkle at 2:00 am, as I step in the back alley of the the strip mall, a brief respite from the night shift.  These stars are crepuscular magical beacons. Luminaries from the heart of the beast.  

The dog, who twitches and trembles and growls in his sleep, chasing the squirrel of his dreams.  Then wakes -- abundantly happy, bouncing and bounding. A life lived in the moment. He is unadulterated magic.  

The frost that covers my windshield in intricate patterns, making me stop in my tracks to wonder at it’s magnificence. Pure magic.  

The child who hugs me with her whole self, the one who still holds my hand in public, the one who looks at me with those baby blues and melts my soul.  Tender magic. 

The early morning sun bouncing off snow capped mountains; a golden pink alpenglow punctuating an unwelcome morning commute.  Unexpected magic.  

Leaves that twist and turn; waving at me like a beauty contestant.  The universe shouting hello.  Discounted magic. 

The orange, rusts and golds of fall.  The pure white of fresh fallen snow.  Verdant buds pushing through frozen ground.  Abundant greens bursting everywhere.  Sun and sand and water and heat. Colorful seasonal magic. 

An owl hooting in the night.  Wondering who.  Who?  Who?  

A spotted baby deer frozen in her tracks.  A doe who bounds an elegant retreat; all four limbs off the ground.  Instinctual magic. 

The smell of onions and garlic simmering on the stove.  Hot apple cider, pumpkin pie, and pomegranates.  Coffee and cream.  Friends and family and red red wine.  Teeth purple with the first sip. Ritualistic magic. 

Welcoming fires that crackle and pop.  Glorious smoky perfume.  Pajamas and slippers, blankets slung over shoulders.  Books in hand.  Football on TV.  Comforting magic. 

Sheep who give wool.  Wool which turns to yarn.  Yarn that turns to blankets and hats, gloves and sweaters.  Enterprising magic. 

Words that spill onto the page. 

Serendipity, providence, coincidence.  Being at the right place at the right time. 

It’s all magic.  

So when you ask; How’d you do that?  Where’d that come from?  How’d you know?  

My answer will always be one simple word:  Magic.  

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