Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Nothing is lost, ever

As I sit down at my morning pages table, the one with the extraordinarily beautiful view over a sleepy Woodstock, congratualting myself for getting up early, on time, the tiny screw falls out of the right arm joint of my glasses. Thus changed the course of my day.

Fumbling around like a helpless old man on the floor searching for a minutiae is one thing, but doing it without your glasses on is another. Aaah, it's found, victory! 

Lee, who found it, said that nothing is ever lost... in the eyes of God. 

The victory was short-lived though; I've still not managed to get the screw back into where it oh-so-crucially belongs. This day, a pressured one I knew in advance, was instantly off-course, and at short distance, where I need it most, out of focus; I'm far sighted.

Lee, a lot more deft with his fingers, spends ages trying to get the screw back in; to use the time constructively I react to a note that's been on my table for over a week: "Get passports out and check expiry dates". Now is the perfect time to pull down the medium-sized and bright-orange Travelite that's battered itself across the world. The Prague trip, should it happen, is less than two months away. That's all.

The passports are not where they have always been - instantly my stomach knots - because I'm meticulous in my safe-keeping of them; there is nowhere else that they should be. Nowehere else.

A swathe of rain curtains across the city and reaches Woodstock quickly. 

I've lost an hour, already, and I'm without my glasses. And passports. I've also not written my morning pages.

As the obese droplets slash-and-splat the windows I recall the amazing space I was in on Camps Bay beach as the last red dot of sun ghosted into the Atlantic. That was Sunday night.

I'm going to trust, as I always do: Nothing is lost in the eyes of God.

It's a beautiful cappuccino and chocolate-croissant day as rain gurgles and splutters in the gutters; I'm alive and in perfect health, I have a roof over my head and a warm bed at night; there's food in my stomach and not only do I have a perfect job, but I also have a hot shower. 

There's many in the streets below who have none of these.

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