Snow on Single OakA case of Friday Night Distraction had already consumed the better part of my attention as I arrived home to prepare a simple dinner—the start of the weekend, just hours away. The plastic container of the thick, home-cooked, red sauce to be warmed over pasta made abrupt contact with the edge of the kitchen counter and tumbled, before I could reclaim it, to land on its side, with a crack, just in front of my shoe.
Standing, eyes closed to what was certain catastrophe, my first thought, “To an unremarkable day, add one disaster.”
Then, still within the same instant, regret--
for the power over me that this single, insignificant act displayed.
And the realization that I, too, have been caught in a swell of uncertainty. The wave of fear lapping at the shore, tugging the solid from beneath our feet.
For sometimes, all is not lost.
The sauce did not spill.
And, sometimes reminders come in the little things.
Single Oak in Field
