The train leaves on time, rolling past idyllic seaside towns and a sunset on fire, and is instantly late. An ex lover writes to name me the one that got away, how it pains him. He says he has not given up hope, despite the years. Life is an endless game of cat and mouse, a chain of chases, the train gets later for each station and the woman in front of me watches movies and checks her email at the same time.
I found a four-leaf clover at last, just outside the house, after so many weeks of fruitless searches. I gave it to the child. He says maybe we should just leave it, I don’t think plants are magic anyway, but when I bring it inside, his mind runs wild with all the power it could possess. Sometimes we are so afraid of our own happiness, of our dreams coming true, that we’d rather believe they cannot and leave them be. I tell him maybe we won’t understand our good fortune until it’s already grown in us, and I think maybe I look for four-leaf clovers to explain the brimming cup that is already there. I’ve done a thousand things wrong but every time I do something right, it’s a little closer to magic. I think I dreamed you into existence and maybe it wasn’t perfect but damn if I ain’t getting close.
The sun sets over the suburbs. My beloved city approaches. I run my fingers over the blessings in my pocket. Everything’s a treasure if you know how to count.
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