Van Morrison is singing, 'let me rock your gypsy soul' and I'm thinking - it's all mystic. All. This thing we call life. Full of surprises and pleasures and pains and these things we call good days and bad days.
I'm cooking dinner when the wet adorabes come wet and dripping and stand before me. They have a certain guilty air about them. I hear them whispering covertly consulting each other.
"Should we tell her now?"
"Well, we have to tell her."
"Zaza . . . " one begins. The other helps her out.
"We have some bad news for you," the oldest finishes.
"What is it?" Obviously, they are ok. I'm looking at them. So, how bad could it be.
Then the oldest produces a dripping iphone from behind her back.
"Leo was swimming with your phone."
"Really," I'm nodding my head. I don't know why. "And when exactly did you realize he had my phone?"
"When we saw something blue and blinking under the water."
My phone had obviously been sending out a distress signal. It didn't make it. And no, there is no rice in the house but I think it was beyond the rice trick anyway. (Please don't share with me about waterproof cases. I know all about otterboxes and lifeproof. I've had them but this time . . . )
I find most days are a mixture of bad and good. That they can be full of frustrating moments and then suddenly a seven year old child says, "Look!" and is looking up with wonder. And I turn to took up and the early morning clouds are arranged just so and colored pink and the child gets the moment. So, I get the moment. "I just love the clouds today," she says again. "Just love them."
And that's the secret. That's the Into the mystic morning secret. That we get that mystical magic from the great Creator of all time in the middle of it all. That we still get it when we are in the middle of the moments when life just isn't life-proof.
The morning of my last day on this trip to North Carolina has fallen. And today with great, great pleasure I get to have lunch with my talented, funny, friend Celia Rivenbark. It's a well deserved break. A much needed breaking of bread and sharing of stories. Then I'll be off to Nashville for one night with my husband and take off Wednesday again to speak in Kansas City.
Which brings me back to the page. There are stories to be told. Two sisters are currently in the middle of discovering a secret, and a love to be found, and a mystery to be solved somewhere deep in the night of Nashville. And they are waiting for me to give their words life.