Magic. What's next?

I'm riding a remarkable tide right now. It's a turmoil:

Many friends are out of work and spending time with me, and doing things for me.
Many people whose lives are undisturbed are doing things for me.
Many friends are sick, and I'm reaching out to them as best I can. I never paid enough attention when I was working. A leftover of childhood: nothing is more important than your workday. My husband has the same leftover example. It's part of our glue: we understand the foundation, whether it's good or not.

One friend I walked away from 20 years ago is now nearing the end of this life, and two years ago I signed on to walk that path next to her as a tribute to the great things she did for me, in spite of the rotten things she did to me. Today she is close to making that transition. My mind is riding next to her, sending thoughts of love, humming music we heard, remembering a trip we took, a loud picnic in Central Park with a fabulous food, Shakespeare in the Park, an approach to work we shared. Both of us skinny, smoking unfiltered cigarettes by the yard, wearing dark sunglasses even after the sun is long gone, chewing over philosophies and shoe styles and the sanctity of Hermes. As I reach out to the universe looking for more good things to send her I turned on the TV, hoping for some kind of distraction for me and inspiration for more to send her, but it had to be a treasure, because I'm losing a treasure today. And along comes Roy Orbison and Friends: Black and White Night. The music, people and staging bring to life the five years or so we spent wrapped up in each other's lives, and I can't believe my treasure showed up here tonight when I needed it. Poof. Magic.

I guess my life is in some kind of transition too; I need new work and the right job could fix a lot of the harm I've lived with for the last 30 years. It's all very tentative, but for the first time in decades I have some hope that maybe next year could maybe, possibly, maybe, be better than last year. More magic.

For 27 years, my vision of a perfect life for me has been owning a cottage in Dutchess County, a dog, and a Jeep. In the best parts of my life, I get the circumstances of what I want, but I own nothing, so however real it is, I'm not anchored to any of it. (Harry was the exception. Now the dogs are here to move the 'exception' button closer to the norm.) I haven't had any foothold in Dutchess County since 1985. But the dream never went away. And yesterday, a friend who has been sick has opened up a door to visit her home in Dutchess County. I have a foothold again. More magic.

What could be next?