A breath of sweet, rain-scented air greeted me this morning. A lovely change from the usual melange of garbage and car exhaust that usually heralds my arrival to the outside world. I take it as an omen for a good day.
I put too much faith in omens. I scan ten different horoscopes every week, read my fortune cookies looking for true wisdom. I think I do not look for honest prognostication as much as I look for evidence of magic. I had a conversation with myself yesterday in which I planned out what I would say if I ever woke to discover a fairy sitting on the tip of my nose. It boiled down to the simple "What took you so long?"
In the elevator ride to the 21st floor, two young sisters argued over who got to push the buttons. I can recall when I experienced genuine excitement, had fun doing things which now seem so commonplace and habitual. While I may have given up the visceral thrill I received when I pushed buttons, I refuse to give up the similarly childlike anticipation of wonder.