Sometimes the trickster comes in tight, compact packages that leave you reeling with surprise.
During this past week, I was thinking how great it would be if our daughter and her dog came home this weekend. Megan and Nika bring a completely different energy into the house, a youthful exuberance that sweeps through the house like a powerful wind. But I knew it was unlikely because Megan had dogs to walk this weekend and that we would be seeing her next week, for my nephew’s wedding.
After Rob had left to teach his yoga class this evening and Cassie had departed for one of the dressage competitions, I settled in to work for a while before anyone got home. Then Megan called and we chatted for a bit.
“What’re you doing tonight?” I asked.
“Just hanging out. What about you?”
“Working on the ghostwriting book, then we’re going to watch another episode of Breaking Bad. Or maybe of House of Cards.”
I heard the ding that her car makes when the key is in the ignition. “You at your car?” I asked. “Headed home or out for the evening?”
“Headed home,” she said. “Where’s Dad?”
“At a dressage thing.”
By then, I was in the bathroom, washing my face, and we talked about who was going to take care of Nika next weekend while we were at the wedding. I heard the doorbell ring. The dogs started barking. “Megger, someone’s at the door. I’ll call you right back.”
I hurried out into the kitchen and through the hall, my face still damp, and had to jockey for space among the three dogs at the front windows and door. I opened the door, prepared to greet my neighbor or a couple of Jehovah’s Witness dudes who make Friday nights their nights.
But when I opened the door, there stood a beautiful young blond woman wearing shorts, a lovely light blue shirt, sandals. It actually took me about fifteen seconds to realize this young woman was Megan! In my head, she was in Orlando, where I had just spoken to her. In reality, she was standing in front of me, laughing at the astonished expression on my face.
“Surprise!” she exclaimed, and I threw my arms around her.
Her dog, Nika, had already sped past us, into the pack of three dogs that were now all racing through the house, toward the porch doors, barking and chasing…well, the phantom squirrel.
She had come home to go to the Saturday night Grand Prix horse show, the biggie of the season, with the largest purse, and Cassie had known about it since Wednesday and kept it a secret. The synchro? Well, I’d been thinking about how great it would be if she were home this weekend – and here she was. It’s not an earth-shattering synchro, but hey, in my book, it’s a manifestation of desire.