A new day

First, I've got a confession to make.


I've decided to end the giveaway early. Thanks to all of ya'll who entered, but I decided that a winner had shown itself and there was no sense in running it anymore.


Queen Bitty said I could do it. I have permission.


You see, Bobbi Jo first won my heart with her love of Christmas and her enthusiasm for the stocking. Any woman who puts a tree in every room and is full of the Christmas spirit is already in the running for a stocking, in my book. Most of my Invisible Friends felt my pain all too well and wanted nothing to do with sewing, but Bobbi was ready for the challenge.

And then I read Bobbi Jo's blog and learned her husband lost her job and she was worried about making Christmas special for her five kids.


There's no one who needs a sugar plum fairy stocking more than that, particularly when you're a fellow Christmas enthusiast with little girls.

Now, Invisible Friends, this is no pity prize. This is no charitable donation. I wanted this stocking to have a good home with someone that would love and appreciate it, and cherish it for years to come. I know Bobbi Jo will do a splendid job of that. So really, she's helping me out.

Bobbi Jo, congratulations! E-mail me your address at mirkoerner@gmail.com and I'll get it shipped your way.

And now, for today's tale....

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It was the same walk, but on a different street in a different part of town. The roads were different, the sidewalk foreign. But the trees rustled the same, the sun glimmered overhead and the blue sky stretched above me the same way it always had.

But it wasn't the same. Biting my lip, I scuffed my shoe against the sidewalk and glanced around nervously. Before I walked alone on a long street on an empty part of town. Now I was surrounded by people and buses, the open blue sky interrupted by towering buildings. My throat burned and I looked down.

"I know." The words were a whisper and I smiled and held out my hand. His tiny feet landed on my skin, softer than a warm breeze on a fall day. His wings opened and closed, brilliant yellow and black in this land of beige and grey.

"I wasn't sure if you'd find me." I smiled wryly as his wings twitched with amusement.

"I will always find you." His wings opened and closed slowly. "It is you who can't find yourself."

"What do you mean?" I asked, mouth open. "I'm not having a personal meltdown."

His antennae twitched. "No," he agreed. "But you are lost. You are in a new chapter, a new day. And you're hiding under the covers ignoring the alarm clock."

"It's not that bad," I muttered, pressing my left hand against my burning cheeks. "Is it?" I looked at him uncertainly.

"That depends on you," he said, climbing daintily up my arm. "It's always depended on you."

Exhaling deeply, I stared down the never ending sidewalk as cars rolled by.

"I just feel like I've been handed the bad end of the deck," I said, chewing on my lip as I spoke. "I didn't do anything, yet everything at work has changed. I've got a different position, we're in a different office with different people and different rules and Libby's gone. It's better for her, but it's not the same."

"The days are empty now," the butterfly murmured, reading my thoughts. "You feel as though time crawls by."

I nodded. "I care, but I don't care," I said definitely. "I know what my goals are, and they aren't here. And I'm lucky to have a job and the freedom I do. It's just in a way, I feel as though I'm on the verge. I've felt that way for a long time."

"Of what?" His wings brushed my arm and a shiver tingled down my spine.

I was quiet for a moment. "That it'll be my time. That I'll finally break through."

The butterfly giggled gently. "People don't break through," he told me. "They chip through. Day by day, hour by hour, they take steps to their destination. You've chosen your road and are making your way. Don't worry about the time or the progress--just worry about the next stop. To compare yourself to others is futile, because you're not them. You're you."

"You're right," I said sheepishly. "It's terrible to get so worked up, isn't it? I just--I was comfortable."

"Comfort is an excuse for not wanting to change," the butterfly said reasonably. "You use your structure, your routine as armour for creativity, at least that's what you say. But to be truly free, you must be comfortable within you, not the structure you dwell in."

I scowled. "I resent that," I said. The butterfly nodded.

"Of course," he said. "It's not easy."

"I never asked for it to be easy," I pointed out.

"But it is natural to wish for it," he reminded me. "But you're better than that."

I shook my head and the butterfly landed on my nose, pressing his face to mine.

"Trust me," he whispered. "For when you trust you, everyone else will. Then it will all create itself. You must have faith."

"I do," I murmured, my voice cracking.

"I know." And then he was gone, floating above the city streets and into the warm sunshine. I smiled despite myself, watching him drift among the clouds in the piercing blue sky.

And then I turned back down the sidewalk.

It was a different street, and a different place. But I had the same hope I always did.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! This weekend, we have a double edition of Kitchen Magic! Also, next week is Thanksgiving week. Any suggestions? Do you want to talk gratitude or food? Tell me what you'd like to see! Do you want a different thing I'm grateful for each day or an ode to my favorite Thanksgiving treats? Let me know!