It was the last egg.
It was in the shape of a zero.
The same sum total of the money in my checking out and amount of edible food in the fridge.
It rolled off the counter and into a million fragments. Just as the Mother Goose fairy tale foretold.
It was my breakfast.
I cleaned it up with a smile, laughing about the luck of it all.
I immediately noticed my lack of reaction because I didn’t yell, curse the landlord for slanted Formica or blame the usual scapegoat, that bastard karma.
The universe isn’t plotting against me.
Eggs fall all the time, the world is an imperfect place.
There’s a road under construction on your daily commute.
The first few days, it’s the focus of your anger and ire. You curse the project, the delays, detours, and damage to the tires and breaks caused by the uneven pavement that sent your latte airborne.
Life continues. Weeks pass. The project, workers, and construction vehicles melt into the scenery.
Then one afternoon, emerging from the thoughts inside your head that run constant distraction. You’re suddenly aware the project is complete.
The road crew is gone. The pavement is even. There are no orange cones, no backhoes, or signs of life other than trampled grass.
When did they finish? Yesterday? Were they there this morning? Have they been gone a while but you failed to notice?
It doesn’t matter. The repairs are complete. After breaking, digging, hammering and paving, everything is as close to normal as possible.
We’re all under constant construction. Some of us are projects that will take much longer to complete.
There’s no timetable for completion. One day you’ll just realize the road isn’t as uneven.
JUST FOR PARENTS