Yesterday, I was sitting at my dining room table, covered
with a beige patterned table runner and four complementary green
placemats. The idea landed with a
definitive tone. I wanted a
tablecloth.
That I was contemplating a tablecloth on a quiet Saturday
afternoon, I would not have seen two days earlier. An out-of-town friend was coming to visit for
the long weekend. As is a habit of mine
when guests are coming, I was cleaning the house, selecting menus and
organizing in ways that nobody else would notice. Except me.
On Friday morning, I got a text message. “Severe weather warning in Southern
Alberta.” Southern Alberta was the only
route between my friend and I. We
watched the weather channel and looked up the road conditions. We agreed.
The snow storm kyboshed the visit.
As I percolated the news, I thought of my next 3 days. Except for theatre tickets, I had cleared the
decks for the visit with my friend. In a
life of full-time work and many interests, a weekend with no plans just never
happens. As the ideas of what to do
began cascading in my mind, I heard the voice of another friend, “Whoa, whoa, whoa,
whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!” What if I didn’t make any plans? What if I just let my day unfold with going
from one inspired moment to another? A
novelty. I can work with that.
I sat at my computer.
My email deposited an notice from the library telling me that a book I
requested had arrived. The tablecloth
idea happened right then. Which brought
me downtown, strolling down the streets at a pace that I can’t seem to find in
a regular day.
The tablecloth is red, not matching my blue Japanese pottery
but then blue on red is striking. This
red is bright and cheery, just what is needed as the nights are increasing and
the sun is hid behind clouds. I never
would have bought it had my plans not changed.
My table looks stunning.
Every time I stop and admire, I see an important metaphor for my
life. When plans change, a whole new
world of possibilities arise.
