Day 8 Magic from the Gold Dust Tour with Renee Magnusson
The magic in my life is noticing little things like going away for a few days in the States with a couple of friends on Mothers Day this year (days before the biopsy that spun my life into a hurricane of fear and disbelief) and turning my wordaday calendar to the date and the word is 'debonair'. My friend's name who was picking me up to go to the States is Deb. For years her email address was debonair. I laughed and laughed and took a photo cos who believes this anyway? But we all loved it. On my midnight shift two weeks before my surgery, our 24 hour work clock stopped at 10:45 or so. No right batteries, it still sat there upside down on the desk when I got in for my final 3 shifts before being off work for 6 weeks. I had noticed that night before coming into work that my chiming clock on the wall at home had stopped at 5 to 11. I made a mental note to change it asap...a pain with a chiming clock as you have to go through all the chimes for all the hours so I left it until I could do it at 11. At work someone I was training suggested I tape the battery tightly in to reconnect the points for the work clock. I did and the clock started so I set it to 9 the time my shift started and I kept on going. But when I returned to the office the clock had stopped again at just past 10:45 even though it is perfectly capable of going past that time. So I told people that I thought that meant my surgery would be around that time. Then at my pre-admitting appointment I was told it would be at 10am. Oh. So maybe it'll be over by 11 I told people. My surgery was delayed until about 10:55. I texted my son at 10:50...he had sent me a "I can't wait for you to read this after your surgery..." text and I replied, "I haven’t gone in yet. Her first case went over time. The anaesthetist was just here. I'm going to surgery in a few mins. Remember the clocks..." "It's 10:50!!! Mom, that is so funny!" he texted back. This magic, this noticing, reassures me and perhaps others, that there's something somewhere that holds us. A universal witnessing and handholding, even a joke like with ‘debonair’. I'm sure I miss much and perhaps I find meaning in nothing sometimes but for me this is the gold glimmering in the mundane.
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AuthorWelcome! I'm Sue Blott: a writer of all things, a poet at heart, mom, wife, daughter, step-mom, grandma, tea drinker, tai chi-er, mystic, artist, dreamer...and now a blogger! This is my world. Categories |