Aqua Aura

This is how conversations go in our house: 

Ter:     Where do you want to go on our drive tomorrow?

Me:     I thought we were going to hit the farm stands on Old West Saanich.

Ter:     You still want to do that?

Me:     I know you’re out there every day, but it’ll be a novelty for me.

Ter:     Okay. Which ones do you want to see?

Me:     I dunno. Whichever. I thought we could just drive out, have lunch and take a few unexpected turns on the way back.

Ter:     Okay, we’ll do that. 

Next morning: 

Me:     I’ve been thinking about our day trip. Let’s go to Sidney, look at the shops, have lunch, and hit the stands on the way back.

Ter:     That’s what I thought last night! Go to Sidney.

Me:     Why didn’t you say so?

Ter (shrugging):      You seemed to have your mind set.

Me:     Well, now that we’re agreed, let’s do Sidney. 

To the uninitiated, this probably seems fairly predictable – one so concerned with pleasing the other that she doesn’t speak her mind freely until the other expresses the same thought. That happens a lot with Ter and me. One of us inevitably has the same thought as the other within everything from a few hours to a nanosecond. An almost daily comment is, “I was just thinking that!” But my birthday trip to Sidney last week had a purpose unbeknown to either of us at the time we decided to make the town our destination. 

There used to be a great card shop out there. I play card tag with Nicole, so any time I can hit a good card shop is a bonus, ergo I got all excited at the prospect of picking up some dandies in Sidney. Alas, the only thing constant is change. The card shop no longer exists. It’s been split into three shops, one for kids’ clothes, one for ladies’ wear, and one called “Pitt and Hobbs” that appeared from the sidewalk to house cards of some sort. So in we went. 

I did get some neat-o cards for tag, but I also spied … in truth it spied me and sparkled up a storm to get my attention … a piece of aqua-coloured quartz that shimmered like iridescent gold in the light. It sat among less glorious minerals in a curio cabinet and I immediately thought, Ter has to see this. If she liked it, I’d buy it. Well, she liked it, we bought it, and now it’s sitting on a table in the Ocean Room, radiating beams and shooting stars from every angle. It’s beautiful, gorgeous, and apparently we were meant to have it else we wouldn’t each have been prompted to go to Sidney—a town where we shared our first apartment, but where we visit maybe once every two years. 

A shiny piece of stone may seem a trivial thing. I have no idea of its greater purpose, but the way it came to us is significant to me. A lot of my life with Ter—and with others—has been lived by mutual consent. What fascinates me is how we arrive at that consent. More often than not, it’s with silent prompting on either side. We’ll each have a thought yet not speak of it until the other one blurts it out some time later. We communicate like ordinary people every day, but on a deeper level, we’re this close to telepathic with a brief satellite delay. In truth, I’m less mystified by it these days, but when Ter looked up “aqua aura” online, she discovered that our new treasure’s primary property is to open and strengthen lines of communication. 

I can feel that satellite delay getting shorter. I wonder when we’ll start getting radio signals from Mars.