Days Like THIS

Today was the first day I began to feel the familiar pangs of a less than perfect existence. For a while, everything was wonderful. I awoke to a flash of lightening that for a moment, seemed to illuminate the entire world in an unnatural sort of way, a way that screams "there is so much more to this universe than anyone could even begin to comprehend." The rain let up just as I was leaving my apartment, as though it were timed, as though it were offering up its invitation to walk out into the world. Which is just what I did.

In my brightly colored patchwork chucks, I trudged through puddles, hopped over fallen branches, stepped in rhythm with the pulsating beat of the music on my Ipod, the pulsating beat of the earth before sunrise. I stopped for coffee, chatted about the beginning signs of spring with the man behind the counter, laughed as a passing bus splashed water all the way up to my knees. I wondered how long such joy could last.

And three hours later, as my friend and I sat waiting with too many children for our missing coworkers to show up, I thought, "ahh yes, there are days like THIS too." There are days when I am bombarded with questions and lectures from frustrated parents. There are days when people let me down. There are days when I am stressed and tired and taking it out on my students, and feeling guilty for taking it out on my students. There are days that feel less than perfect. There are days when I would like to go hide in the bathroom and scream curses and cry. There are days like this too.

By two o'clock I was so ready to get home, I had even regretted walking as it only made the trip from my classroom door to the comfort of my bed that much longer. I wanted to hop in my car and hide away. I wanted this dreadful day to be over.

But instead, something funny happened. I stayed to talk with a friend of mine, putting off the inevitable journey home. I vented. I showed her pictures. I laughed at her stories. I felt better. An hour passed by. We stepped outside and were pleasantly greeted by the sun who had finally decided to grace us with her presence. We said goodbye. I put Alexi Murdoch on. I walked to the Corner Bakery Cafe around the corner, bought myself a cappuccino and am currently sitting outside, writing, watching the world go by. I am currently doing exactly what I love to do, exactly what I would choose to do in every moment of my existence, if given such a choice. I am currently exactly who I am supposed to be.

The sun radiates down upon the screen of my computer and for an instant, as I write that last statement, I catch a glimpse of myself. For an instant, I see myself reflected on the page, on my own words. And I realize just how true they are. I am exactly who I am supposed to be.

And I think yes, there are days like THIS, but there are also ways of turning it all around. There are days that feel like patchworks of pain and joy, days that feel like the very shoes I walk through them with. There are days that look and feel like despair, but there are also little glints of beauty, of gratitude, of perfection hidden away in the most unlikely of places, just waiting to be discovered. There is also the insatiable hope of such discoveries. There is also this gentle reminder of such hope.