At an International Airport

I was on my way back to Thailand after visiting family in Canada.

At the airport, I noticed a small sign: Religious Room.

I hadn’t known airports even had such rooms. Something in me felt drawn to it. I wanted to quiet my mind and meditate before the long journey home.

When I walked in, I was relieved to find it empty.

The space was rather dull — a grey rug with coffee stains, rusty chairs, pale walls marked with scuffs.

But it was quiet.

I meditated for twenty minutes, then felt compelled to do a few standing yoga postures. After about fifteen minutes of stretching, I turned around.

There, on the floor behind me, was a bright orange feather.

I froze.

There was no way it had been there when I entered. Against that tired, colourless room, I would have noticed it immediately. And yet — here it was.

I laughed out loud when I picked it up.

It wasn’t even real.

It looked like something from an arts-and-crafts bin — or a feather off an old costume hat.

Still, it felt like a gift.

As if my angels were gently reminding me to keep my sense of humour about life… and about returning to Thailand.

And to remember that magic can show up anywhere.