The Hand, the Planets, and the Fickle Finger

Sometimes I love how the universefategod messes with me. Like when I made the final drive north determined to buy my new house where my mom and I will live together. The phone rang when C & I were almost there. It was my brother telling me that my mom didn't feel well. She couldn't/wouldn't get out of bed. Everything hurt, she said. Take nothing for granted, the voice inside my head said. Plan, but plans are not stone. Plans are made of sand.

My mom went to the hospital by ambulance that morning. She had pneumonia. She recovered. We're still planning on moving in together.

Yesterday, after signing the loan papers, I went to the bank to arrange the wire transfer for the down payment. Hooray! I'll take myself out for a glass of iced tea at my favorite little cafe, I thought. I'll sit on their patio and flip through the lovely pile of magazines on design and decorating that they have there. I was doing just that when my phone rang. The name on the screen was the name of the law firm that represented me in the divorce. Oh no, I thought. I just bought a house I won't be able to make the mortgage payments on because The Someone is dragging me back into court. Oh no, what can I do? Whom should I call? I couldn't take another sip of the tea and hopped up to rush home. As I raced down the sidewalk, I heard the phone signal that I had a voicemail. The law firm has four  boxes of documents that they want me to pick up, the message said. That's all.

But it's good to be reminded how how the tide can turn and wash everything away.

Today I counted my blessings over and over again.