Since it’s my 11th Real Magic, I want to write about that magical time: 11:11. In my family, when we see it, we say, “11:11! Make a wish!” We close our eyes and wish for something: goodness for a struggling friend, strength to get through that next difficult thing, anything really.
This tradition started after my grandfather’s funeral in 2007. During the ceremony, I had to step outside because my infant daughter had begun crying. I walked into the warm Santa Barbara sun, soothing and bouncing the baby, and asked my grandfather for a sign. I think I even said it out loud. “Anything will do, Grampa. A gust of wind, a bird, a bug, anything. Let me know you’re there.” I waited. Nothing came, not even a slight wind. But then I noticed that the church’s street address was 1111. I looked at my watch, and sure enough it was 11:11 AM.
I started laughing and said, “Of course!” It made perfect sense that my grandfather, an engineer, would choose numbers. Is this connection just coincidence? Is it all made up? Perhaps. But perhaps not. I find that when I pay attention, I find this kind of magic everywhere. What is most certainly real is that seeing 11:11 always feels like a little hug from beyond. When I see it, I say hello to Grampa, make a wish, and feel reconnected, comforted, and hopeful.
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