Fried Olives and Lock Boxes

​I’m not sure how it happened.
Somewhere between a blue cheese martini and fried olives and pecans, MAGIC unfolded.
Maybe it was the extra salt of the olive juice, possibly the high back chairs that made us feel as though we were in our own private world. It could have been the road trip filled with singing oldies together as we traveled for a decorating job. It is possible that the lighting was just right as we looked across the table at each other and a spark was re-ignited.
But MAGIC happened.
We had just finished a day of delivering floral arrangements, helping out of town clients solve some decorating dilemmas, and crossing state lines to pick up some antiques for display at the store.
Our favorite little Speakeasy in Amarillo called our names.
As we pulled into a front parking space we were thankful that our faithful, nine year old, paid-for vehicle that sports almost 160,000 miles had once again brought us safely to our destination.
We did not have a reservation, so we were surprised to be seated in what we would consider “the best seat in the house.”
The sun was still high in the sky and it beamed through the west facing windows.
We took a selfie. I mean, isn’t that what we do in the year 2019, and we texted it to our friends who originally introduced us to this place. “Wishing you were here” we said...or at least it went something like that.
But as we sat, just the two of us, the conversation unfolded in a way neither of us expected it to. We went from toasting a new angel in our lives, to discussing business, to talking about our individual strengths and ultimately our private lockbox.
“You hold the MAGIC,” I told Benny. “You always have.”
He smiled and lifted his martini glass towards me.
“No. You hold the MAGIC.”
It was that moment. The moment that brought a lump to our throats. It made our hearts beat a little faster. Our eyes became moist and glassy.
WE have the MAGIC.
Together we bring pendulum to balanced.
Our lockbox had been rented twenty-six years ago. We were both given a key and we began placing valuables inside.
We placed two beautiful daughters inside.
We placed memories from vacations.
We tucked away leaps of faith that worked out and some that did not.
We inserted painful past choices, hurts, heartaches, rejections and even deaths.
We spent a lifetime adding treasures to our lockbox.
But somewhere in time, we misplaced the keys. Lucky for us, we never lost them. We just never seemed to have them out at the same time.
In the hustle and bustle of raising our children, starting new business ventures, trying to keep up with the Jones’s (which is futile, ridiculous and we gave up on years ago,) and paying the bills, the keys were buried under a pile of “must-do’s and have-to’s.”
As the local musician strummed his guitar in the corner, the words echoed as if he was sitting on the edge of the Grand Canyon. “Shower the people you love with love. Show them the way that you feel. Things are gonna work out fine if you only will.”
The sun had long since moved to the other side of the earth, the last fried olive left the bowl, and when it did, we saw something beautiful. It was there all along.
The other key.
The key that opens the box.
The key to the valuables.
The key to possibilities.
The key to love.
And love is where MAGIC resides.
PJ (9-28-19)