Since leaving my basement cubicle at Bradley, I've struggled with what to call this blog. First I tried Coffee… Outside the Cubicle. But that was awkward. Today I renamed it Coffee and a Miracle. My husband asked me what the miracle was. I said I don't know. I'm still waiting to find out.
When I was in junior high I loved doing the broad jump in track. I'd run as fast I could down the asphalt and then take flight over the sand pit. I was told to kick my feet to keep going further. That worked very well. I made it to the conference tourney, where I think I earned second place.
Later, when I fell in love with music, I would imagine myself a dancer, although I had no training. I would spin and twirl across my living rooms as if I was on a New York stage. I felt absolutely graceful and marvelous.
In my dreams, I think, these two memories merge into something beautiful. I find myself dancing and taking flight. I dance but also kick so I can go even higher. People are amazed that I don't fall to the floor. I float above it all. I feel wonderful.
In my dream, at least, that's a miracle!