Life’s unexpected events collide when you least expect it. For me, 2013, has been a year of rehab. A series of rollercoaster events that has taught me never to take anything for granted. For in that moment when you think you one part of your life is bolted down and secure, it flies off into the air, leaving you staring wistfully after it, wondering how you got where you are in the first place.
I do what I always do in these situations; press my reset button and listen as the words increase into a crescendo. Thundering through my head like a stampede of elephants demanding escape onto the nearest page. Reinforcing my belief that writing is all the therapy I will ever need.
When writing my fantasy series, I happily lived in the world I created. Immersing myself in my safe place with the characters and places I vividly imagined. Never anticipating that my belief in the magic; in what you can’t see is just as real as what you can, would offer me a helping hand when I needed it most.
For there is magic in the invisible; in simple kind gestures that you never knew you needed; but squeeze your heart when you realise you are the lucky recipient. Like the neighbour who stops and offers to help with that stubborn car bonnet. Like the friends who text you every day just to say hello and make you smile. Like the brother who teases a smile when you think you have none left. Like the nephews who remind you that life for laughing and running – very fast. Like the Aunt and Uncle who offer a glass of wine and a hug. Like the Mum and Dad who accept you for who you are and provide chocolate when you are in danger of forgetting.
In this week where the unexpected became the norm, my Dad returned from a working trip in Eastern Africa. His arrival followed two weeks of fractured calls home where he would describe a beautiful hotel surrounded by an empty land. My Dad, the kind hearted soul he is, arrived home with half a suitcase; having given away most of his clothes and shoes to the workers he met on his trip. When asked he only said; “they have nothing and we have everything.” Describing the ravaged clothes, bare feet and the stalls that sell empty plastic bottles; an item I naively considered worthless. The small derelict shacks that hold families of eight and the barren land that does not yield enough food or water to feed them all.
So this week, I leave you with no parting wish, but instead ask you to witness a lesson in perspective. For in receiving the invisible; the magic. I realise I am richer and luckier than I ever imagined or appreciated. Look around for your magic. It’s out there. Then smile and say thank you. I just did.