Today as it Was

Where did my day go so quickly?  I now sit in the fading light of day. What have I done with these precious hours of my life, this time I shall never recover? 

Soft gentle music plays now on this laptop’s speaker. 

Right now I sit outside at a table having finished dinner and having put the dishes in the dishwasher and the leftovers into the refrigerator. Alone by choice I have taken a seat in the early evening air.  This night is warmer than it has any right to be.  It was a mere 34 degrees just a day and a half ago.  Looking upward the sky is clear, the trees are spring green and the light promises to last at least an hour.  Yes, indeed what have I done with my day?

At the start of all the events of these hours my wife nudged me.  No alarm had gone off but we had both been laying quite awake but still in the quarter light of 5:55 am.  Our internal alarm clocks had told us exactly what time it was. For my part I was debating a return to sleep but the tap of the elbow into my ribs confirmed what my bladder was telling me, I would need to rise from the sheets and covers.

The next hour was ritual pure and simple.  Take a pee.  Grind and brew the coffee.  Empty the dishwasher.  Set out the plates for the morning meal.  Dash upstairs for a quick shower. Dress.  Item after item on the daily checklist was marked off until I walked out the door at 6:58 a.m. and began the mile and half walk to work.

On a normal day, I would simply snap photographs of the plants that catch my eye.  On one day, it might be a color that strikes my imagination. As a result, there will be six shots of purple blossoms going up on the old Facebook page.  On a different day, the thing that will catch my eye would be plants with apparent symmetry.  One small pale blue blossom circled by six perfectly formed green leaves might demand a couple of minutes and numerous angles.  Cropping the shots and adjusting the color would normally happen too but not today.

As I stepped onto my path I decided I needed to write a note to an old friend.  Using the voice recognition software on my smartphone I created six or so paragraphs.  Of course, the software is inexact, or maybe it was because I do not speak with the accent the algorithms were designed to capture, but there was much editing.  The walk flew by as I crafted those paragraphs.  Eventually it was done and I mailed it off.  Maybe a response will come.

When I got to the office the surprise/not surprise that my coworker was ill became a reality.  Work needed to be shuffled.  Those extra minutes I had planned to use to catch up on other deferred work disappeared.  This moment set the tone for the day.  Nothing ran smoothly.  Nothing was short.  Everything was an onion growing more complex as you peeled back the layers.  I did not need nor did I want complexity today.  Screw the layers.

As it had begun with that nudge, the day came to an end.  As I was typing and in midsentence the phone rang telling me my ride had arrived.  The sounding of horns, my favorite ringtone was an aural nudge that the day had come to completion, well at least it told me my work day was at an end. What the hell tomorrow will be another disaster.  I could leave some of the cars of this rolling train wreck until tomorrow.

At one moment in the middle of the day an old friend had called.  This was someone I worked with for years.  Living the dream of every single person from this northern climate my friend now lives in the sunny south where tobacco leaves grow high.  The words flowing over that phone line reminded me I had made a good impression on at least one person’s mind over the years I had toiled at my tasks.  The talk was good.  The talk gave hope that one day in the not too distance future I will enjoy time to do things.  The talk seemed to imply that I will have a chance to travel, to write, to be alive.

Of all the 660 minutes between waking and when the work day ended two things counted.  There was a phone call with a friend.  Friendship should never be underestimated.  The second was the drafting of a note to a friend.  Friendship should never be underestimated it is a balm, it is a high, it is a purpose for which we live.

And the pianist plays softly but lightheartedly.  The wind has shifted and the air is cooling now.  There are about 180 more minutes before I will hang this day on a nail and call it a night.  Two moments of joy out of hours of mundane pleas of mea culpa and several tales of true depravity, well I will call this day a win.