A moth, a rabbit, a frog and a hint of Alice on a Tuesday (and Wednesday)
My wife, our one-year-old, and I went to my aunt’s and mom’s place to pick up some cake — the kind you swear you’ll “save for later,” but then devour the second you get home.
But that’s not really the point.
It was one of those days where everything feels slightly enchanted, like if you could pinch the timeline and drag it sideways, you’d see all the threads glowing underneath. A day that makes you wonder if something unseen is nudging events around you.
So let me tell it backwards.
🐸 The Gate, 2 A.M.
We live in a fairly urban subdivision — concrete, houses, predictable noise.
But there it was: a huge frog (or a toad), sitting beside our potted bougainvillea like it had been waiting.
The air felt heavier than usual.
Inside the house, a moth drifted in, distracted the cats, then hovered at our bedroom door — as if marking an entrance.
That was also when I realized my wedding ring was gone, lost somewhere between all the moments I wasn’t paying attention.
🐇 The Rabbit
On the drive home, a rabbit crossed the road.
Another one had crossed our path years ago — that first time felt eerie, unreal, like a glitch in the world’s code.
This one felt like… an echo.
A repetition.
A reminder.
🐈 Alice’s Shadow
Earlier at my aunt’s house, there was a cat lounging in the garden.
She looked so much like Alice — our lost cat — that for a breath I felt reality bend a little.
I moved closer, hoping…
But no.
Just a familiar pattern wearing a different soul.
🏋️ The Pull-Up Bar
My aunt’s place has a makeshift gym my cousin is building out.
There was a pull-up bar, so I grabbed it — or tried to.
I took off my ring so it wouldn’t slip, not knowing that would be the last moment I held it.
Hanging there, I felt the strain of my weight, the metal digging into my palms, and the strange awareness that something was shifting in the day — subtle, but definite.
🌺 The Garden That Wasn’t Just a Garden
Around the gym were wild, lush vines, flowers that looked half-feral, leaves with too much life in them.
But woven between them were fake flowers and fake birds — the kind my family uses for décor.
Real and unreal mixed together, familiar yet uncanny.
The whole garden felt like a liminal space pretending to be ordinary.
❓ What Does It All Mean?
I don’t know.
But the day felt orchestrated — like a quiet message delivered through creatures, coincidences, and misplaced things.
A strange little constellation of signs.
And I can’t shake the feeling
that something was trying to get my attention.
And it got it. Gnomes?