March 2017
I wait in line at the bakery. I ask for sourdough bread. As
he takes it away to slice, I eye the latte dunker that I often get for my kid.
It’s a favorite. I think of getting it, the thought slides, I pay for the
bread. The lady behind the counter asks me,
“Would you like a latte dunker? Looks like this one didn’t
get enough of the top layer. It’s yummy all the same. ”
I stare at her. I watch her pack the freshly baked, sticky
rectangle of goodness, my face incredulous. I laugh as I take the brown bag, I
thank her (I hope) I’m still a little taken aback by the synchronicity of
thoughts and events.
June 2016
Two tiny figlets (?? I think it’s the perfect name – and I’m
sticking with it) appear on the fig tree. I am excited for the tree and me and
summer.
There’s always something reassuring about the reappearance
of things. Especially pleasant ones. Okay, only pleasant ones.
The year before, we had a whopping four figs on the tree. I am
happy with my two. Each time I am in the yard, I peek beneath the beautiful fig
leaves, to say hello and to check on them. By now a third has appeared. Life is
good. I made a mental note to keep an eye, to allow them to sun-ripen on the
tree, to make sure I pick them just in time – before they fall off, or before
the birds, (who I believe, already have designs on them) get them. Yes. The
mental list gets longer. I get more involved. Hmm…
July 2016
Overnight, the fig tree is laden with tiny green fruit. Hundreds
of figlets, everywhere. The tree is exploding.
I shake my head thinking, ‘’The poor suckers don’t stand a
chance – Turkish figs take long to ripen. Summer will be long gone before they
can turn purple. Poor things. Sigh…”
I focus all attention on my my first, second and third-borns.
I watch them get plumper and darker – my
sun-kissed beauties. One gets pecked by birds and falls to the ground. I leave
it on the ground for the birds to eat. The remaining two are sweet and pulpy, velvety
and delicious. (My kid won’t touch it, of course).
I pay no more attention to the fig tree or the green figlets.
August 2016
We return from vacation. I potter in the yard, when
suddenly, I notice bees on the top branch of the fig tree. They are attacking a
plump fig that looks like it’s going to burst open at the seams. The tree is
full of purple figs awaiting their fate -- either be picked or be plagued by
bees.
I marvel at the tree and the fruits and the warm warm summer.
I think of the attention I gave to the three figs, and the complete lack thereof
to their siblings.
Yet there they are. Juicy and succulent in their purple
glory. Waiting for me to pick them. Something about them seemed effortless and
easy.
Just when I was not looking, just as I let go of all expectations,
nature decides to give me a sweet gift. And to everyone who stopped by our
place those couple of weeks.
September 2016
Back to school shopping for my kid. The list says a pouch
with a three-hole-punch. I think a clear one will be better so she can see the
zillion things stuffed inside. Only, there isn’t a clear one in the store. There’s
blue and purple and pink and yellow, paisley and cartoon prints. No plain clear
one. I can see the one she’s picked packed choc a bloc. I see its contents
tumbling out as her fingers dive in to get an eraser. I suggest we get one from
another store or look online.
“No mom, this is fine,” she picks one. I look some more. I
offer to take her to another store yet again. Finally I decide to care less and
let it go.
The following week, we get a packet from Amazon. In it lies
a clear pouch with three-hole-punches. My husband had ordered something, and
this is what they sent, accidentally. Freaky, you say? My reaction, totally, in
a happy kinda way.
He calls Amazon and they tell him they will ship his cables.
When he asks about returning the pouch, they tell him to just keep it. It costs
all of two dollars and it’s not worth the shipping costs.
I laugh and shake my head in disbelief. “Maybe we should stop
watching Stranger Things,” he quips.
I insist my kid use the pouch that “the universe has sent
our way in mysterious ways”.
“Sure,” she shrugs. She is just as fine with the other one.
Now I don’t particularly think of myself as a “lucky”
person. At times, it seems like bad luck seems to dog me quite faithfully.
But just we aren’t looking, it seems like things are trying
to happen happen the way we want them to – more often than we think. Perhaps they
get lost in the noise of our daily lives.
Perhaps I need to have a little chat with the Universe. The
latte dunker is really great, but truly, there are other areas where I could possibly
use more assistance. Sigh… the Universe wants me to figure those things out for
myself.
These are random stories. You will have yours when you
notice them. And when we do notice them, it is a wondrous thing… Just when we’re
not looking. Just when we let go, let up, things happen, with a beautiful
synchronicity and serendipity… and we simply have to let them…
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