Time Stands Still

Certain experiences make time stand still, like admiring a sunset or holding a newborn baby. Lying on my belly in soft white sand, I stare mesmerized by the seagulls flying around the orange ball in the sky and reflect on holding my two-day old nephew only several hours prior. I feel a drip drop of something on my calf. I contort myself to peek at the substance that’s landed on my body. 

Bird poop! One of those hypnotic gulls defecated smack on my leg. Taken out of my trance, I throw my head back laughing, remembering what Rasha told me back in New York. 

Coming off the outdoor subway station in Astoria, a bird did the same thing - only that time right on my head. Rasha and her sister, visiting from Lebanon, looked at each other wide-eyed. “You’re going to be rich!” they both cried. Apparently, in more cultures than one, a bird using your body as its toilet symbolizes good fortune. 

I’ll take it! 

Goodness knows I need it. It’s not that I’m broke per se, I just wonder at what point my life will truly begin.

Preposterous! I hear the rebellion. 33 years of life have surely amounted to something?

Perhaps - just not something quantifiable. Tangible. Provable. Real.

Not something like a boastable number in my bank account, nor a fabulous relationship, nor children, nor a purchased home, nor an admirable career, nor a thriving social life.

My goodness, what is it that I do with my time? Couldn’t tell ya. I’ve prioritized “healing”, “self-care”, and writing sweet nothings that add up to…nothing. Documents on my computer that never see the light of day. I read. I read a lot. They say that’s a good thing, right? What, though, has it gotten me? Education? For what? 

I lay all those questions aside and simply find presence on the sand. Good fortune is set to come my way: a little birdie told me so.