Fairy Dust in My Ordinary Day

Today, I received one of those treats born on fairy wings.

It happened on my way to yoga--an ordinary day in an ordinary car taking my ordinary route. The classical radio station started playing Lehar's Gold and Silver Waltz. For those unfamiliar with the piece, it's sprightly, delicate, and at times, mischievous. In other words, the perfect soundtrack.

At an ordinary light at an ordinary, albeit busy, intersection, something had gone awry (the work of Puck, perhaps?). The light had stopped working. Cars, most on their way to work, some to drop off kids at school, treated the six-lane intersection like a stop sign.

And that's when I noticed it.

All of these cars, normally infused with Dallas impatience and road rage, waltzed, a sprightly, delicate waltz.

The intersection became the ballroom, and cars lined up and took their turns. One, two, three, one, two, three. Light, on your toes. One, two, three. Not a misstep.

We danced to Lehar's Gold and Silver Waltz.

And then I came to the other side of the intersection, and the moment had ended. For me, at least. The dance continued behind me.

I suppose if it had not been an ordinary day, I wouldn't have noticed the fairies making mischief.