Sylvia Jordan opened her bank statement and cringed. The visual realization she had one-third less in her savings account shook her sense of security. The new home she sat in was scarce comfort that she didn’t squander the money, but reinvested part of her inheritance in real estate.
Marlena, her best friend, had tried to convince her it made better business sense to use the bank’s money, a mortgage, and deduct the interest on her taxes. But Sylvia followed a long-established family rule, “pay cash whenever you can or go without.” A logic she didn’t fully understand, but it was familiar.
An unconventional idea, one her parents would disapprove of, came to mind. Sylvia walked to the cedar chest at the foot of her bed to retrieve an old shoe box. She removed the lid to reveal scraps of paper with hand-written notes.
“I need a better system,” she mumbled to herself.
She found the small narrow store receipt with the coffee stain. There were three bullet points under bold letters: ABUNDANCE. The entire ritual took less than fifteen minutes.
The next morning, Sylvia was awaken by a rustling chatter. When she opened the blinds a nightmarish black cloud of hundreds of birds rose off the ground. Frightened, Sylvia stumbled backward. She pulled up the blinds to see out the entire window. Several seconds passed before the all the birds flew away.
The smell of the brewing coffee calmed Sylvia, and she laughed at herself. She asked for abundance and received a plethora of birds. In her panic, she had chosen the wrong spell. It would have been better if she remembered to be present in a state of gratitude, and thankful for her blessings.