I spend so much of my time planning ahead, and hardly ever stop and just think about where I am now.
Where am I now? Loving my job? Yes.
But in this case love is a decision. It’s sacrificing what I want and accepting what I’ve been given in order to enjoy life.
My life in a nutshell: I wake and dress. As the wide-eyed sun rises I glide in a rumbly Ford Focus through the dim lit highways.
Steam dampens my nose as I sip a hot tea at my work desk and straighten the crooked calendar that hangs above me.
Hours later I gulp a foamy latte in the lobby of a five star hotel waiting for my supervisor to look up from his phone, our coffee breaks last too long.
Before lunch I sit through meetings of which I know nothing and aimlessly take notes raking up something to research when I return to the office. I wave my badge in front of the locked door to my office and the red line beeps to green and unlocks–it’s thrilling.
During lunch I fast walk the canal, careless of how I look in a woman’s suit and sneakers. Music plays from my headphones as I pass people of every shape and size. Well, the ones with the bigger shape don’t usually walk. They just sit on the stairs, sucking cigarettes and stare into the distance.
The afternoon is a drag with my warm body pleading for a nap after that brisk walk. I peek to see the only person visible from my cubicle. She’s fixing her hair in a little mirror, now checking her cell, then answering the customer service phone.
Emails pop up at the bottom of my screen and I respond immediately. My supervisor beckons and we talk in his office about our agency’s bill ‘till quitting time. I’m lost in a crowd of government employees as we all race through the underground tunnels to our cars. We race in vain, for traffic is backed up around the block and our cars heave a sigh as we wait to exit the garage.
Home smells of cooking chicken and steaming rice. I slip upstairs and grab my gym bag, before tugging of my skirt and blouse to pull on my swimsuit. The pool is cold at first then warms as I move my body around. My goggles leak little droplets of chlorinated water which stings my eyes as I plunge through the vast space of blue expanse. They never seem to stay on right and after a few laps I remove and readjust them. The life guard dozes off, the aqua-yoga class poses on. After ten laps I climb out of the water and wait ‘till I’m in the locker room before peeling off my swim cap. My wet hair falls to my shoulders in sloppy chunks. I slip into a hot tup and allow the violent bubbles to drown out my thoughts and worries.
I’m home just in time for dinner. My hair smells of strawberry conditioner, and drips on the floor as I spoon a ladle of chicken curry onto my plate. We eat, we sing, we pray. The routine is a welcome addition to this pleasant day. I clean the kitchen, brew some tea and retire to the living room to read my bible and watch the news.
Living in the moment is only hard when I worry about what will happen in the future. It’s always pleasant when I just worry about what will happen in the next six hours.