I woke up today and without knowing it, the world had conspired against me. It filled my spongy day with soft whipped cream, iced it white and sprinkled it with fairy dust.
It felt good, the day. It tasted good. And when I reflect back, though I get the sense that it had no nutritional content, I nonetheless feel sated.
Some days are like that. It doesn’t make them bad days. They just are. On another day, like this day, but not quite like it, I would feel guilty about having not spent my time wisely. I’d feel guilty about minutes ticked away on the paper, or the walk with the dog, or gazing at my emerging seedlings. But today, I don’t.
I wish that the euphoria and gentle allowance I have about this day could happen on days when I most need it. Like, when I was stuck in Canberra waiting for the car to be fixed with nothing to do. This feeling of ‘meh, I accomplished nothing’ would have been advantageous then. In fact, given my situation, the chances are I would have felt even more euphoric than I do today simply because I had no other choice than to do nothing.
It’d be nice if we could post days we have now, back to when we needed them. Or even, if we could copy days and keep them on file to pull out and alter at will.
I’d copy this day.
I’d copy the soft sunshine and the excitement as another sprout emerged from sandy soil.
I’d copy the laughter of watching my dog leap through long grass and slide on pine needles like a kid on red cordial.
I’d copy hugs from my son and the bright look in his eyes when I said “when you’re older you can go to the shops on your own”.
I’d copy time with my mother, speaking with my lover and the visit from family friends.
I’d copy this moment, at the end of a day, when I say “Wow, I’d copy this day.”