I saw a shooting star

A birthday to remember

I fumble through my purse daily looking for my key, my headphones, a wallet, and inevitably I will come across a small rosewood jar I carry with me.  It’s filled with a balm made of beeswax and oils and smells of rose, spikenard, and spices.

I’ll stop and put a bit on my wrists and behind my ears and a dab right under my nose.  That small ritual and that…