Pure Magic

I sat in traffic on a rainy day, absorbed in browsing through my treasured album of mental pictures, searching wistfully for a fair and carefree place, a moment in time or imagination to pluck from my memory and disappear inside, far away from the gloom of the unfolding afternoon. Lost in thought and miles away, I slowly turned to my left and... I saw him. Standing alone in the middle of the asphalt ocean of a bleakly empty car park, like a perfect pearl pendant on a cashmere grey sweater. A Seagull. Hundreds of miles from the sea. As astonishing a sight as a kelpie in the supermarket or a unicorn on Main Street. He calmly held my gaze for a moment or two before stretching out his grey white wings, lifting up in the air and flying away through the mist. I watched him go in open-mouthed amazement. No one else seemed to notice and I wondered for a moment if indeed, only I had seen him, if he had popped through some enchanted portal as a feathered epistle, a reminder to me alone. If so, I am grateful he took the time. For the sight of him was a lovely gesture and served as an admonishment to me to always remember the pure magic that is in floating about in the world for those with eyes to see, that even though a dismal rain may be falling all around, somewhere a warm wind is blowing and sea gulls are calling out to each other over glittering blue- green waters.
How could I have allowed the gloom of the day to overtake me?