the feather

It’s been a crazy couple of weeks.

There’ve been trips to the hospital (not for me), birthdays to celebrate (not mine, but glorious fun), an injury (mine, dammit), car repairs (my car).

I have The Cursed Child waiting to be read. And I have lots of things on the do list.

Time has slipped by quickly and I honestly don’t know where it’s gone. But in a couple of days, other than having to deal with an ortho, I should be back to a relatively normal life. (Dear powers that be: that statement is not a challenge. Please don’t take it as such. Thank you.)

The other day, when I was at the mechanic, as she was handing me the keys, I looked down and saw



a feather.

It was near perfect, sitting at my feet. I pointed it out to my mechanic and she said, you should take it if you want it. (I love having a female mechanic) and I said, no you should take it. She said, oh, I just like to see them and then I let them get carried away by the wind.

And that seemed like a good idea to me, and so I said so, and my mechanic and I smiled at each other and I got in the car and drove off.

There was something peaceful and reassuring in all of that. I can’t explain it. But it moved me from the busy to the quiet.

And the quiet was a lovely place to be.