Sometimes on Saturdays, my dad would take us to the stained glass store. While he looked for supplies, we got to pick out these little glass beads. There were four million colors to choose from and something about the whole thing felt like magic.
After he died, I started finding these little beads everywhere and in the strangest of places - like smack in the middle of a hiking trail or on the sidewalk in front of the grocery store. It always feels like Dad tapping me on the shoulder and saying, “Hi! It’s me. Don’t forget there’s still so much magic in the world.”
In all of his emails, my dad spelled weekend with a hyphen. You could say that the hyphen doesn’t belong but you’d be missing the point. It’s a space holder for magic, just like these little glass beads.