by Kelan Putnam

Created on: November 13, 2008   Last Updated: December 11, 2008

MIRACLES

At the moment, I am expecting a miracle. My life will be forever changed. The crossroads where I make the right turn, with no regrets. Of course, I want my choice to be easy, but when faced with two or more choices that appear to be of equal value, logic does not always prevail.

While I am sitting here with my lemon tea, lazy Theo the cat beside me, I want to be on a train to somewhere. With a lovely man who is kind, respectful and trustworthy. No, it is not too much to ask. He isn't on the internet, or in a coffee shop or bar.

Our conversations will be brilliant. You see, he will LISTEN. I will HEAR. The two of us will share values and ideals. His voice is only a whisper now, but that is about to change.

Already I have plenty of miracles under my belt. Theo is one of them. I have never met such a devoted male cat, with eyes of green and his solid pale gray coat, a guy I can count on. He arrived minus his front paws a few months after my dog was killed. We knew we belonged together. One abandoned soul met another, and as time passed our bond became solid.

My yard is a miracle of trees, of a deck with two tiers where I spend hours reading and writing. Caring for my yard is a delight, it is enclosed with a tall fence, and I love my privacy.

I was in the only accident of my life a couple of years ago. The car slipped on black ice and the turn into the curve sent me and the Honda Accord down a ravine in an area with no streetlights, late at night. I left my poor destroyed car without a scratch. Yes, I lost my car and now own this tiny inexpensive one, but I can drive, see, walk and run. Isn't that a miracle?

Perhaps I am simple, but just sleeping an entire night can be a miracle since I am an insomniac. I love knowing it is light out when I wake up, instead of the dreaded darkness of three in the morning.

There are several poems I have saved in a sacred place, and I read them when I have the blues so bad I can't stand a single person, place or thing. They bring me back to beauty, to creativity, to all that has genuine meaning. The mundane reasons for my malaise disappear.

Conversations with random people as I take my daily walks are a different kind of miracle. Sometimes, it's news from the area where I live that I learn from them, or personal stories told and shared. There is always something surprising that happens, people coming and going in no particular plan or order.

When I leave today to return late tonight, I'll have my senses turned up to recognize the miracles I expect. I respect the fact thatmiracles of mine might mean nothing to another. However, I know they are out there, waiting, approaching, and will change my life in ways large or small.

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