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It was the kind of morning when my coffee was medicinal rather than recreational.

 

My son had been up most of the night with an ear ache. So, he alternated between my chest, the kitchen floor and my husband’s forehead. Basically sitting (because he couldn’t lie flat) wherever he felt most comfortable and making damn sure that the whole neighbourhood knew that we had a sick patient in our home.

 

The following morning he was 100% fine and had me wondering whether the whole night was a dream. Just then, his nanny arrived and I could have kissed her, I was so happy!  But, the first thing she said was “there’s no bread?” with a look of shock- horror that bolted me out of the door, medicinal coffee in hand.

 

I zombie-d down to the shops where I stood in the longest queue, with the biggest headache for eternity.

Apples? Check.

Fabric softener? Check.

Lemons? Check.

 

I noticed that the guy standing in front of me in the queue was buying 100 loaves of bread. “Damn!” I thought, “bread! I forgot the #%*ing bread!”

 

Just then, my phone beeped and I dipped my head down. When I looked up again, the guy in front of me had disappeared.

 

And, guess what HE left behind? Yes, you guessed it.

Bread.

The very kind I intended to buy.  Paid for.

 

There are no words. No explanations. Certainly no coincidences.

Just gratitude….

 

magic

 

© Aluta continua, as they say.  A Heart Full of Stories, 2017

 

 

 

 

 

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