God it’s wonderful to get out of bed and feel the sun on my skin sometimes. As a creature of indoors, no longer tied to the nine to five routine, this wasn’t something I get to do on the daily anymore. It’s January and 9am in my city, which means the sun is still merciful to the skin. I watched my own shadow against the pavement while I waited for my husband to lock the door before we headed out for an errand, when I was struck by a thought that has so often befallen me, and every time it does, no belated access of will ever seems enough to stop it. It goes like this:
somewhere, someone else is mourning someone they love, I often imagine a parent or a spouse; some are celebrating something they’ve waited years to achieve, like passing the BAR or earning their doctorate; some are going through it; some are having the worst day of their lives, small misfortune after another, adding up until you want to rip all your hairs out; some woke up before dawn, just as the birds were singing to greet the new day, to hike up a mountain they’ve been meaning to for a long time now, or for the first time, both probably delightful in different ways, I wouldn’t know as I’ve only ever climbed flights of stairs; some are leaving for a trip they’ve been looking forward to, the trip of their life, maybe Switzerland if they’re anything like me; and some, probably most, are simply just having a “normal” day.
And all of this—these hypothetical, but very real, and most definitely happening situations—I try to hold at once. I like to picture myself in their shoes. I would grieve, celebrate, cheer, and lament these scenarios very briefly in my head, thinking back to the times I’ve gone through the same, or imagining how I would fare had I been in their place. I can never quite wrap my head around it: how all these lives are unfolding at the same time, the stark differences in how one experiences life at this very second. How many stories are changing direction, stalling, crashing, or reaching their own climaxes. How much is being etched, moment by moment, across millions of consciousness. Every decision that’s been made, big or small, deliberate or subconsciously, that led us to this moment. Thinking about it always puts me in a kind of trance, like I’m beyond myself.
Today, my husband and I (unfortunately) ran into our landlord the moment we stepped onto the street. We were given a ride to the city, against our will, despite our numerous qualms and polite declinations. It probably is one of the longest rides of my life, as he spouted one strongly felt and misinformed opinion after another, the entire way.
In the end, we did not get what we came for so we walked some more and consoled ourselves with a tragically dry breakfast Chickenjoy. And somehow, despite the small disappointment, I was so very grateful. Grateful that it wasn’t a day of loss, or heartbreak, or unbearable sorrow. Grateful to feel the sun on my skin, to walk beside the person I love, and to have a day that was ours, in all its simplicity.
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