At the end of a busy Friday at work I took a walk across the Heath, as the first slight bruising of evening came to the sky.
I went to the place I go to meditate and shut my eyes, birdsong trilled and the soft air played around me. Stillness and thought within and without.
When I walked on, the sky was a thoughtful blue, and the trees were set against it like fine ink sketches.
I watched a small flock of birds fleet over my head, stark against the sky.
And I was taken by the simple beauty of what I was witnessing. Behind me, over the hill, a cotton candy wisp of pink behind a cluster of trees.
So I walked on, and down towards the silver ponds. Passing by I saw a woman, obviously nauseous, holding onto the fence. I turned back and I asked her if she was okay.
She was a little embarrassed, but glad of the distraction, glad of the support.
And then we recognized each other.
Mike?
I knew her years ago, from school and mutual friends. An intelligent and pleasant lady.
It was ‘morning’ sickness, she was nine weeks pregnant, unable to tell anyone, or many people, at any rate.
So I distracted and bolstered her, we walked to her car she thanked me and I said goodbye.
It was a nice, fortuitous moment.
