Maybe it wasn’t the first time. But it was the first time that I heard it – on the radio. I didn’t sleep the greatest last night, so at the breakfast table, waiting for my coffee to kick in, everything was kind of a blur. Even the music seemed muted. But then, clear as the sun shining through the window, I heard the announcer say it – Minneapolis. My heart paused. And I smiled. It may seem like nothing, but it felt big for this French radio station to say my city’s name. (I know it’s not mine alone, but it is mine, and I joyfully claim it.) It felt like being seen. Being welcomed. Now, I’m no fool, (well, sometimes) I know it was because they had just played a Prince song, but it still felt great. It felt like I nod in my direction.
We see what we choose to see. Hear what we choose to hear. The signs may come in whispers — sometimes even with accents barely understood. But they will come — if we are open. And they are magic, if we believe. And oh, how I want the magic. Need it. Welcome it.
This day is not mine alone, but it will be mine, if I choose to claim it. If I choose to find the magic, maybe as joyfully as only fools can. I nod to the sun. Pause. And welcome the day.