I was sitting at a picnic table in Ravenswood Manor Park, writing in my journal. I was concentrating very hard, yet I felt my wrist glide left to right easily as the words flowed from my pen.

Then – splat!

Plummeting down maybe five inches from my head, I saw bird droppings plop down then spread out across a two inch area of the table surface like a two dimensional version of a mushroom shaped cloud.

What the –

I examined the spot, the whitish splatter on the grayish brown table surface. I looked around to see if anyone was watching me, or to see if anyone had been hit. All I could think was, That was a close call!

I don’t want to get overly dramatic, but when I thought about the possibility of conditioning my hair with bird pooh, I was very relieved I missed the experience.

I often contemplate my good fortune at small events that work out well for me like catching a bus that only comes every twenty minutes or winning a free concert ticket by calling in to a radio station quiz, or finding out that my reserved theater seat is behind a very short person.

I don’t always think about close calls as good fortune, times when I narrowly miss a problematic situation. But these close calls are blessings.

• Like when you get back to your car after an errand and are not greeted by a ticket on your windshield even though your paid time expired 11 minutes ago;
• Or when you’re in the middle of baking something and think you’re missing an essential ingredient only to scan your memory and realize you have a spare box (of cocoa or walnuts or whatever) in your pantry;
• Or when your piece of toast seems to fly off your plate and land on your linoleum, buttered side up;
• Or when you break a glass and, uncharacteristically, actually have shoes on;
• Or when you find your bike standing upright in a public rack after you realize you didn’t slip the chain through the spokes properly;
• Or when you drink milk after the expiration date and don’t spend the night hugging the porcelain god;
• Or when you read the small print on an airline ticket because you have to re-arrange your itinerary and realize you actually can exchange the ticket without a heinous penalty;
• Or when you close the back door of your home, returning after a day out, seconds before it starts to rain.

You may laugh that your good fortune is a sign of living well or of good karma. Inwardly, you still think, Whew. Close call. Boy, am I lucky! 

I have tried not to base feelings of gratitude on comparisons, on thinking myself fortunate compared to a child laborer in Sri Lanka and things like that. I would rather cultivate gratitude without getting tangled in relativity.

But I have to admit that feeling fortunate can often come in the form of contemplating averting a minor disaster.

Keeping your head out of the way of a bird bomb is no small thing.