Then for no apparent reason, it came crashing to the ground, bashing itself to bits on my ceramic tile. Apparently after sitting there and smiling warmly for six years (and gracing our previous house before that), Mr. Smiling Sun decided to end it all.
I think it's particularly twisted that he still appears to be smiling.
Now, I'm not a big believer in signs. Not as in stop signs (I believe in those for sure), but signs from God or nature or whatever. I'm pretty sure you could go crazy trying to interpret everything that happens as some kind of indicator in your own life. But a violent stage dive from this overly cheery ceramic sun (which was a hand-me-down from my mom) seems like it might be a sign for something. An ominous warning? An indicator of good things to come since no one was around to be wounded during his descent? Who knows?
It's funny, because I haven't thought of anything as a real "sign-with-a-capital-S" in years, but I had a fleeting thought about one earlier in the day. On my way through fog this morning to take my son to his medical appointment, I saw a dolphin surface off the side of the bridge. It's really a feat of amazing timing: I looked over at just the right moment to see the fin arc up and duck back down. And I thought, you know, how can today go wrong? It's starting off with such a beautiful and amazing sight!
And then I promptly got lost in downtown St. Petersburg, caught in a web of one way streets which made us 15 minutes late for our appointment. So much for signs.
I'm not expecting anything to come from the crashing sun. I actually am hoping against it. I'm not a fan of the weird.
I'm also not a fan of my empty bathroom wall.
Bye, Mr. Sun!
Bye, Mr. Sun!