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I generally believe in good things, the Universe, positive thinking...you get the idea. While I am an optimist, I am also a pessimist. When I needed proof for something, my mother would always laugh at me. She'd just put her hand on her heart and say, "If it feels right there and the head doesn't argue too much," that's fair proof to believe."
It's not that I'm completely sceptical; it's simply that I find it easier to accept the abstract when there's evidence. And yes, I've had my fair share. I recall a comedy scene in which someone claims he won't accept something he can't see, to which the other responds, "You can't see God, does that mean you don't believe there is one?" Does the fact that you can't see air mean you won't believe it exists? Does the fact that you can't see love mean you won't accept it if it exists?" and the list continues on and on. It's quite amusing.

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It's the same with faith. Sometimes I still privately think, "Let it happen, and then we'll see."

Every time I get my so-called proof, I'm pretty sure my mother laughs. One instance stands out in my mind, maybe because I was searching through my closet looking for a specific t-shirt. You know how it is when you grasp a piece of clothing and memories come back.

It was just another ordinary day. I went about my morning routine after dropping my son off at school and got to work about 10 a.m. Being a Monday, I'm a little later than normal, at 9 a.m., because I prefer to do some speed cleaning on Monday mornings. Maybe it's the music in my brain, or maybe it's just the energising vibe Monday brings. Unless we're talking about the colour I'm wearing, that is.

As a result, we had a tranquil morning. I was employed. I was listening to music.



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I got up at 11 a.m. to stretch and move, and then decided to shower. That's exactly what I did. And wearing a stylish full-sleeved black t-shirt. It's fantastic. It has an attractive strip of thumbnails of Michael Jackson across the front. (This is the t-shirt that brought this memory back to me.) I felt very good in a pair of snug faded dark blue jeans and resumed work, humming a pleasant tune.

At 1 p.m., I took a little lunch break.

I meandered around the house until 2 p.m., when I decided to go to my son's school. With a song on my lips — I'm a habitual hummer — and a spring in my stride, I snatched up my purse and slung it over my shoulder. I slipped into my shoes, pleasantly thinking about how nice my shampoo smelled... and also congratulating myself on getting that new smudge-proof kohl pencil. It didn't work.

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I noticed my reflection in the bookshelf glass, admired myself for a second, and smiled as I walked out the front door.

Imagine my surprise when my front door did me a favour and slammed shut. I was taken aback. What the hell was I thinking? That never happens. Something about the mechanism – it never shuts off on its own.