As this is my 100th story posted to The Glog, it deserved a little more reflection and refinement. Thank you for reading, and hoping you enjoy the now-extended version of this story. ~P.
While filling a bowl at the kitchen sink with water to soak my little air plants, staring blankly out the window, I accidentally overfilled the bowl. When I moved the bowl away from the sink, pivoting towards the center island, the water gushed over-and-out in one sudden wave and onto the floor. Usually, I’m wearing socks because my feet are so cold all of the time, but my feet are bare this morning because the socks I wanted most to wear were still in the dryer from the night before, so, suddenly, I’m standing in puddles of cold water, seeping in between my toes.
I feel the air of my chilly house instantly cling to the wet all over my legs and feet, and as I peer to the floor to see what surely is water everywhere, it’s right there: reflected back to me amidst the droplets and puddles across the floor, is a raised blob of water in the perfect shape of a heart. ❤️ My story does not end there. I then ignored my wet feet, and dragging the wet with me, stepped over to the kitchen table to get my phone for necessary picture taking to document what I see.
Hurrying back to ground zero, I realize, “Oh, no, I think I just walked right through it, and it now must be gone!” So, carefully, I stepped back, bent over now, scanning all the wet islands for that special one I had hoped was still there. And, suddenly, beautifully, it comes into focus, beading in high-gloss wonder from the worn, wooden floor, highlighted softly by the daylight of late-morning.
Picture-taking accomplished, when reviewing my photos, the time they were taken pops from my screen: 11:11am. My noticing this special time, and gazing at this picture of “one more heart” appearing for no reason, sends a swell of warmth through my still-wet legs to my soggy toes and makes my heart beat a little faster, sighing with resolved confirmation that these occurrences just happen and are a part of me. These are now the many ways that love is shown to me, especially in times of doubt, sadness, or pauses in thought.
Towel now in hand, it’s time to dry my legs, paying special attention in between my toes. I’m trying to seal-in the warmth I now feel. Each foot is carefully cradled in the palm of one hand, swaddled in towel, and with the other hand, pressing every angle with a satisfactory squeeze. My feet dried, before this warmth escapes, to the laundry room I go, finding those pair of socks in the dryer I had in mind for wearing today.
Slipping socks on hurriedly, I stand still with eyes closed for just a long breath, taking in the calm which for a moment feels like I’m standing in sand, my toes curled in the depths of tiny grains warmed by sunlight. Thoughts of being on a shoreline somewhere in my mind are gone the moment I open my eyes.
Returning to my kitchen, reluctantly, I dry the floor, choosing not to look for the heart again, as this would be too much to see it being undone. So it’s a matter of bending over, a fresh towel in hand, and with wide, slow strokes along the length of the wood floor planking, the water is removed, methodically, mechanically, feelings now put aside.
As I tended to my terrarium garden in miniature, I reflected in quiet, deep thought. My air plants and mosses received some extra attention today. I lost track of time as I carefully finished with their delicate rearrangement, nestling them back together in their glass home. In doing this, an odd feeling comes to me: maybe some of the warmth I feel now, this memory, has been shared with this microcosm, put away for safe-keeping, and every time I look closely at their uniqueness and intricacies, they are now reminders to me of unexpected happenings and love itself. ~Paula