I sit on a wooden chair, out on a wooden deck, and take three big gulps of my Chardonnay. It’s noon on a Monday, so I’d rather not lead with a gin tonic, as I normally would prefer.
Why not drink on a weekday? It’s days like these that I sit quietly and want to be grateful for the choices I’ve made. Yes, I make less money than I am “supposed” to. Yes, I am 2 days away from being 27, with the greatest achievement on my resume being that I was once a child ambassador to a UN conference when I was 12.
Being 27 and no longer in my early 20s brings me closer to not giving a shit about what I’m “supposed” to be doing.
How much money are we to make anyway? Height – minus weight times the amount of alcohol I drink in a week?
I can’t help but smile and be happy! These days I don’t feel anything less than said emotion. Being happy is feeling like dancing to the soppy song on the radio, noticing the birds chirping, and even taking delight in watching dark clouds roll over and pour into rain.
Being happy isn’t about being contented. Because I don’t think being content is what I am. I want more in life, but I’m not rushing for it. I’m letting things happen as I would to stop at a red sign. There’s freedom is flowing around the hard bends and slowly eroding at them with the insistency of happiness. With time, and a bit of luck, a gorge is still formed just by having water flow through it.
I remember a time, where I was blind to the sweetness of being alive. Not too long ago. And I relish in the fact that I’ve made a 180 degree turn to that perception. What a splendid time to be alive! No wars, no famines, no droughts. We take the simplest of things for granted.
2 days from 27 and I’m enjoying every moment of life, thank you for this gift.