last night—or maybe this morning, in between hitting the snooze button—i had an amazing dream. i had moved somewhere new, out of the city, and i had some anxiety about it. i decided to go for a walk and the next thing i knew, i was standing on a cliff overlooking the ocean. i can't tell you what joy it gave me to realize the ocean was just steps from my new place. i stared out at the water feeling completely euphoric. i felt free. i glanced down and realized there were seals swimming and splashing around and that only added to my happiness. it was one of those dreams that stayed with me (in a good way) after i woke up. when i finally got myself out of bed, i felt a little buoyant. the last seven days haven't been in the best in my life, so it was a relief to feel something other than anxious. despite the damp and dreary weather, i decided to go for a run outside, and while i ran i thought about taking pleasure in the little things.
last week my mom's best friend from high school, Nancy, had sent out a mass e-mail. her husband was diagnosed last fall with pancreatic cancer and she'd been keeping her family and friends updated via regular e-mails. as it almost always is with pancreatic cancer, the diagnosis was not hopeful. and while Nancy's e-mails were never filled with good news, she made sure to mention the things she was grateful for—this is one of Nancy's innate traits that i admire so much, her ability to always find the bright side. in last week's e-mail, she mentioned that her husband was currently resting in his recliner, listening to the birdsong, enjoying the sunlight streaming in through the window. and for that, she felt blessed—that he was still able to enjoy peaceful moments.
i was thinking of that this morning, in the aftermath of my dream, and i was thinking of other small joys i've experienced recently. like last night: i stopped in the market for a few things on my way home and there was a song playing in the store that i'd never heard before but for some reason, standing in front of the frozen food section, my hips and shoulders were moving with the beat—almost without me realizing it. as i walked to the checkout i noticed three other people gazing at shelves or strolling through aisles also getting their groove on. it made me smile. on a chilly, rainy Monday night, people were dancing in Gourmet Fresh.
one night last month i was on the F train and for some reason never put on my iPod. i had it with me and the battery wasn't dead, but i just never bothered to take it out of my bag—highly unusual. i found a seat and opened my book and at the first stop i heard the conductor's voice. somewhere in the back of my mind i noted that he sounded like the voice used on the monorails at Disney World. i felt a pang of comfort and happiness—i thought of my college program friends and how we used to imitate the Spanish version of the "stand clear of the closing doors" announcement and it made me smile.
at the next stop on the F line, the conductor suddenly had a Scottish accent. at the next stop, he had an Indian accent. at the next, he was channeling Goodfellas. soon he started making comments in between stops. after we pulled out of the Second Avenue station, he said—conspiratorially—"aren't you glad we got rid of those people?" after another stop, he said in a public-service-announcement voice, "ladies and gentleman, it has been a long week for everyone. please try to overlook the olfactory offenses committed by your fellow riders." i and the other folks who weren't plugged into their iPods cracked up. literally every stop was a different accent, and the commentary in between was hilarious.
it was so entertaining i was actually disappointed when it was time to get off the train (and, believe me, i never feel that way about the F train).
so funny and strange, i thought afterward, that the one night i don't bother to put on my headphones i have one of those only-in-New-York experiences. i thought it was so cool that rather than mumbling or screaming at each stop (which many of them do) this conductor decided to have fun, enjoy his job, make otherwise miserable passengers smile.
i was thinking about all of this as i ran this morning and thought maybe it was worthy of a blog. i think people like Nancy are generally happier in their lives, no matter what else is going on, because they're not bogged down by life's bad breaks. can't think of a better way to live.
then i got to work and saw that there was an e-mail from Nancy. her husband, she wrote, passed away peacefully Monday afternoon. she said she was incredibly sad but also thankful that he was in no pain when he died. and she was so grateful to everyone in her life, for their thoughts and prayers during the whole experience.
my eyes filled up as i read the message. life is just that way, isn't it? it was a deeply sad, all-too-real reminder to enjoy the little things, to find joy in what you can, to slow down sometimes for god's sake.
life is too fleeting and precious not to.
mb
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