There I was, heading to physical therapy, when my windshield wipers decided to audition for their last hurrah. At first, they waved enthusiastically—proud little soldiers, and I drove off, completely forgetting about their affliction. Then, as I hit the road, they gradually slowed, stuttered, and shuddered their final farewell, stopping dead center on my windshield. Out of cell range, I maneuvered my way home via Braille.
I canceled PT. Then I canceled the dinner and game night plans I’d been so looking forward to for weeks. One tear per eye—maximum. I don’t have the time or energy for tears, let alone the migraines they bring. I still feel that pit in my stomach from all the worry and disappointment piling up. But there are blessings too. Some are cosmic, divine! I feel held by a greater plan, even as life throws me one thing after another.
Next week, it’s a wiper motor replacement, another vet bill for Boo, and the small matter of manifesting the money to pay for it all. But today? I’m breathing, writing, and trusting I’ll figure it out—one broken wiper at a time.
DoodlepunkArt 