On an introspective note, I’ve spent some time this week looking down. Perhaps it's the wan, pale light of winter, but the urge to crawl into my head and stay there (perhaps that's where my missing socks have gone?) has come upon me.
It’s another world, looking down. A world of discarded snacks; of lost hair ties and ravaged candy wrappers; a house-cleaner’s nightmare of discarded cigarette butts and bus transfers.
I pick these things up, you know, throw them away.
Absolutely free of charge.
I was doing that this morning, absent-mindedly tidying up my part of the city, when there, on the ground, right where the bus will open its doors when it arrives, right where I will be standing when it pulls up, I see a cigarette.
A whole, clean cigarette.
And one penny. Heads up.
They are side by side, as if placed there purposefully.
I look around. Perhaps I look too deeply sometimes - I once saw implied threats in the tiny mouse head deposited on my front steps by a feline admirer - but I saw in those two things a sort of hope. There are those for whom a found cigarette is comfort, for whom a found, heads-up penny brings luck.
I step back. I look up.
The bus comes, and I step over the cigarette and the penny, hoping that the person who needs them, finds them.
The doors open. “Beautiful day,” the bus driver says.
I smile. He may be on to something.
It’s another world, looking down. A world of discarded snacks; of lost hair ties and ravaged candy wrappers; a house-cleaner’s nightmare of discarded cigarette butts and bus transfers.
I pick these things up, you know, throw them away.
Absolutely free of charge.
I was doing that this morning, absent-mindedly tidying up my part of the city, when there, on the ground, right where the bus will open its doors when it arrives, right where I will be standing when it pulls up, I see a cigarette.
A whole, clean cigarette.
And one penny. Heads up.
They are side by side, as if placed there purposefully.
I look around. Perhaps I look too deeply sometimes - I once saw implied threats in the tiny mouse head deposited on my front steps by a feline admirer - but I saw in those two things a sort of hope. There are those for whom a found cigarette is comfort, for whom a found, heads-up penny brings luck.
I step back. I look up.
The bus comes, and I step over the cigarette and the penny, hoping that the person who needs them, finds them.
The doors open. “Beautiful day,” the bus driver says.
I smile. He may be on to something.
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19 comments:
May you have many more feline admirers and may your pennies always land heads up.
As though speaking it makes it so. The smile certainly helped make it a beautiful day!
Enjoy good omens, happy bus drivers and nice days where you can find them. As for that bloody mouse head, maybe you should keep your head up and buy more canned shrimp.
I believe in omens. Something I see in the AM that gives me some joy, stays with me the rest of the day. If we look, we can find.
It's surprising how something so small can make such a difference in one's day. :)
Lovely, m'dear :) x
I say if it's a choice between worrying about mouse heads and seeing the promise in a pristine cigarette and penny - go for the promise, every time!
Besides, that feline admirer just had a feline sense of gift-giving. No worries.
Almost enough to make a guy want to start smoking again. Almost.
I bet the rest of the day was good too, it's the little unexpected things that lift the spirits.
I saw a red winged blackbird on one of the feeders this morning. Omen of spring.
This is wonderful, my friend. :)
Little things are always uplifting and if they make you smile they have done their job.
Merle.............
Hari OM
There comes a time when there is nowhere lower to look and the only way is up... and smiles arrive like the sun from the clouds. YAM xx
I left you the penny and cigarette because I'd run out of mouse heads.
--feline admirer.
The little things are HUGE aren't they?
Ah you're a generous lady, Pearl.
I love you, Pearl.
<3
Another bloody great post that had me there with you
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