A Day of Good Omens

March 12, 2009

What do you make of your life when a vacant parking space in front of a terraced house (converted into specialists rooms) at eight thirty in the morning on a rainy Thursday after a stop-start journey in on the freeway whilst time ticked too closely for comfort to your appointment time of eight thirty signals a good omen for you? 

You pull up to the vacant spot and think to yourself, ah this is going to be a good day!

Well, actually, you don’t just think it, you express the sentiments to your sixteen year-old who is sitting in the front seat next to you (its she who the appointment’s for). You turn towards her and express your almost spiritual belief in vacant-spots-as-omens as you complete a perfect reverse park, and note that its not even a metered site. The parking gods are shining down on you.  It will therefore be a good day. She grunts in reply and you realize she has her ipod earphones in. But she takes them out because of the look on your face. “What?” she asks in a voice drained of life. Her expression is your antithesis at that moment because your face is lit with the light of a believer. “Its going to be a good day!” you repeat. She rolls her eyes. “Whatever”.

The specialist is a sleep specialist. She prescribes a special hormone tablet for sleep for your daughter and gives you the address to go to. You wonder whether to go before or after driving your daughter to school. The two places are in opposite directions. Your daughter says to go before, because arriving at school at recess makes more sense than half way through lesson two. So you reach for your new Melways (which you are thankful for because your old one wouldn’t have a Docklands address in it, and it so happens that your hub had only put it there for you last weekend).

On the way there you take a call from your friend on long service leave and arrange to meet later in the day for a movie and lunch. 

You arrive at Docklands and its still raining, but you find the place easily. You turn into the narrow street and there is a parking spot right out the front of the place you have been sent to. Fifteen minutes (no coins required). Beside yourself at the double omen, you express your delight to your daughter. She doesn’t reply to you, but a smile escapes her lips this time. 

Back at the car you notice  she doesn’t reconnect herself to her ipod. Driving from the Docklands to school she begins to chat. She talks about her recent good grades for English. “If I can do well eventhough I’m drained then I’m starting to think that I must be smart”. (She has insomnia). “I’ve always said you’re smart! Didn’t you believe me?” She says that she didn’t believe you, but that she’s decided to “do a reality check” on her belief that she was dumb. She’s understanding concepts in psychology, she’s getting A’s in her assessments in most subjects…

She tells you that when she gets back to school there is a meeting at recess for all of the arts students who applied to go on an art tour of Central Australia over Easter. She handed in her application last Friday. They’re only selecting a small group to go. They will announce the successful applicants at the meeting.  She is super keen to go (not just for the creative inspiration). “I want to establish myself in art at the school and get to know the art in-crowd”. “Great idea”, you tell her because you and she have already had a discussion about making a career in art and the need to make a name for yourself. 

You ask where she wants to be dropped off and she directs you to the closest point to the Art building where her meeting is to be held. As you pull up you ask what time her meeting starts. She tells you ten twenty and both of you look at the digital clock in the dashboard saying “10:20” and smile. At this point both of you have a good feeling, but neither express it in words. You feel connected and you notice it because it doesn’t happen all that often these days. You ask her to text you if she makes it into the tour. You think that she will make it because it is a day of good omens. But you don’t say it just to be safe.

The rest of the day is unusual. You meet your friend, catch a movie together, have lunch and you forget about the stress you have been feeling about the paper you have been writing for an upcoming conference that your supervisor has already critiqued and that you have almost rewritten. The movie was The Reader and you enjoy it immensely. You’d read the book but couldn’t remember everything about the story. You felt transported.

In the car again you turn on your phone and a text from your daughter comes through. “I’m going on the art tour”. You drive by her school on the way home from the movie just in time to give her a lift home. You get home and reflect on the day and write this post. What are you to make of your life when good days happen like this, foreshadowed by vacant parking spaces…?


4 Responses to “A Day of Good Omens”

  1. Kit said

    Sounds like you were tuned in to the Universe today! Parking spaces are very good indicators of tuned-in-ness and positive thinking!
    Glad she got on the tour.

  2. Brenda Holt said

    What a fabulous story. So enjoyed this today, and so enjoyed meeting you for lunch last Friday. You saved my life. I am a different woman this week.

  3. ejenne said

    Hi Kit. Lovely to hear your perspective! (So I’m not crazy after all?).
    And thanks. She’ll be inspired by his tour I’m sure. She is quite a talented drawer and photographer.

    Thanks Brenda! I enjoyed our lunch too.

  4. […] the family and over-exercising. The next thing I noticed were her sleeping patterns. She developed insomnia. The links I’ve included in this paragraph are from November and December last year prior to […]

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