Miracles

I woke up with my life lying on the floor. Everything was in shambles and none of my thoughts coherent. I could cry, but then I felt the drought in my tear glands, from overuse. A mild headache was setting in, you know the kind when you can't express in any form what exactly you're feeling so it comes out as a headache? Yes, that.

I started cleaning up my room furiously. It's just my way of getting control in my otherwise out of control world. First came the clothes then the magazine rack and so on. It was only after a while that I thought of cleaning out the chest of books. I dusted out the cobwebs and chastised myself for letting those lovely beauties gather all that dust.

My hands fall upon this one book I'd read a really long time ago, a time when my life was in a similar phase. That book had helped then. I thought, why not now? I closed my eyes, feeling a little silly as I was doing it and opened a random page.

 I cast my eyes on the flowing words. As I read word after word, sentence after sentence, I do not know if I should have been amazed or scared at how those two pages gave me the exact solution to what has been bothering me. The book spoke to me. In that chestful of books, I choose to pick exactly that book and opened exactly those two pages and I received advice I'd been hunting for a while now.

How then, can we not believe in miracles?