Mindfulness Exercise

I am about to take Jones to daycare.
I want something magical to happen.
I want us to see a UFO or a burning bush, I want an owl to suddenly appear before us, it’s wings spread in revelation.

There is very light snow covering the patches of grass lining the sidewalks. The grass, still green, pokes through it–a kind of stubble. Jones thinks he sees a dragon in a window so we pause to get a better look. We are blocking the sidewalk and I sense a person coming up behind us. I shuffle to the left and mumble an apology. A college-aged woman stops and smiles, stands before us. She is beautiful in the morning. Long autumn hair. She could have stepped out of a magazine. Or a forest. She is smiling, waiting, waiting to help, I realize. I tell her we’re okay and she says something charming and warm, and then vanishes like some spirit in a dream. All the lives she will pass through. And coming toward us is a young man, a student. He is running, loping easily down the street just as natural and easy as a cloud drifting in the sky. I know him. He is the son of a man I went to university with 30 years ago. Suddenly the past opens up on the street, and I am back at McGill with his father, his dad running toward me with a baseball after collecting an errant throw. And then as his son waves at us I am summoned back, watching as he runs beyond us and into his future.