Picking Today’s Perfect Moment is sometimes easy and sometimes quite difficult. Lately, I think I pick things which are meaty in atmosphere. These are things that when I recall them later in the day take time to unfold in my memory. It doesn’t matter if they took only a second to elapse, their recollection spans a much larger time.
I could have picked the CN train passing my bus with more than 50 cars all from the same place, but outside of seeing the engine from a unique angle, the sameness of the cars makes it seem less worthy. I wish I had had my camera out and ready though.
I could have chosen my sushi dinner. It tasted pretty good, but having lived in Japan I feel like a snob about those things. It wasn’t that it tasted any different, it just felt different.
Instead, I offer this tale.
The other day, I sprained my ankle. I have done my best to rest and recuperate…but I’ve got to eat, so I’ve got to work. Being at work isn’t so difficult because I can sit down and rest whenever I feel stress on my ankle. It only bothered me walking to and from my public transportation commute, and the stroll to the already mentioned Japanese restaurant. Choosing to be social, rather than the anti social person I often am, meant walking to the restaurant and walking to the original restaurant that was too busy to admit us. I suggested taking the bus, but was voted down. I probably should have taken the bus myself, but that meant not being part of the conversation.
When I got off the bus near my house, despite resting my foot as best I could while on the commute, I was limping a bit and couldn’t walk very fast. While each step wasn’t as agonizing as it had been earlier in the evening, it was still less than pleasant. The sidewalks had lost their snow, but there were large puddles forcing me and my sadly perforated running shoes, to the snow banks. The traffic light aiding me in crossing the street defiantly showed red, maintaining it long enough to express its spite. The air was misty, like rain hanging in the air. There were no cars and the neon lights of the supermarket seemed dimmer than usual. It was a lonely walk and home seemed far away.
Upon opening the door, my cat meowed a hello (and probably an order for a cat treat) and all of that minor hardship melted away.