A very ordinary day

I had an epiphany in the shower this evening.

But before I tell you about it, let me tell you about the day that led up to it.

I woke up at seven. My boyfriend and I parted ways at the crosswalk with a kiss before I stopped at one of my favourite coffee shops for coffee and something sweet. On the way to work, I listened to the voicemail my sister had left me and read a chapter of my book. At work, my kids were chattier than usual. I had to use my grumpy voice a few times. At lunch, I ate a surprisingly delicious chicken salad from Sainsbury's.

After school, I went to a new pilates studio. It rained on the walk there (it's summer in London, of course it did), and by the time I arrived I was soaked, but a girl in the waiting room offered me her seat while I caught my breath. After class, the rain had cleared and the sun was out again. On the bus home, I edited the fourth chapter of a novel I'm slowly attempting to write (assuming I maintain my current pace, it'll be ready sometime next decade).

At home, I listened to a new album my sister recommended. Then I got into the shower and had my epiphany.

For the first time in maybe forever, I wasn't counting down the days to anything. Not the weekend, not my next holiday, not the party I’m going to next week.

I was standing there thinking about my day: the coffee, the voicemail, the rain, the bus ride home. And I was smiling. Nothing extraordinary had happened. But still, there was no countdown in my head to some future version of my life where everything would finally fall into place. I was just happy. 

It made me wonder if this is what people mean when they talk about living in the moment. Ever since I was at school, my mind has been fixed on the next thing. After Year 12, it was university, then my first job, then maybe marriage and kids. But now that my visa in London is nearing its expiry, and so much of my future feels uncertain, I've found myself holding on to the very ordinary things because I know this season of my life won't last forever. Yes, it's raining on my walk, but this could be one of the last times it does, and isn't it beautiful?

And just like my very ordinary day, here is a very ordinary blogpost about it. I wrote it in fifteen minutes while I was waiting for my pasta to cook, and I didn't spend weeks editing and overthinking it, like I usually do (eek). 

My epiphany was this: happiness was never intended to feel dramatic. Happiness is simply being. And tomorrow is not more important than today.

A x