Still more catch-up. I should be synchronised again on Tuesday evening.
FunkyPlaid had already left for Scotland, and I was behind with the cats, finishing up my job at the university library, taking care of the last-minute moving details. It was a very strange time, both too long and too short, and I was incredibly restless. Sometimes I would hop off Muni 2 or 3 miles from home just to walk the rest of the distance.
I wanted to make sure I was seeing enough of San Francisco before I left, I guess.
One walk home, I stopped in at this little shop I’d passed by many times. The sign said something about tarot, something about magick. I stopped in anyway.
The shop cat wandered over to me soon after I entered, and as I browsed a small table with jewellery on it, she pushed her head into my hand for pets, over and over. I half-heartedly scritched her as a particular necklace caught my attention.
“She likes you,” said the shop-owner, smiling brightly at me. I automatically smiled back, still unfocused and restless. My fingers had found a spirally bit of cord to fiddle with when I asked the cat’s name.
I felt a pang, as I always do and always will when I hear that name. My dear, dead Gracie, the best black lab in the world.
I bought the necklace. I wear it often. The shop-owner said labradorite is for transformation and confidence. It’s for something else, too.