Meditate

The office building is quiet, Saturday morning and everyone knows someone with a boat, or at the very least a backyard barbecue.  One lone violinist rehearses next door, their melancholy scales climbing the cardboard walls, and I smile at the company. Did I not wake in sunshine this morning? Did I not remember that this life is mine for the taking and I have every opportunity to make something astounding of my time with it? My tooth forgot to hurt then; I let it rest.

There was a moment yesterday,  when the bus twisted around the turnpike and Manhattan appeared like a gift in every window, the elusive jungle cat to a hoard of eager safari participants, when I couldn't stop my chest from swelling, my head from giggling. After so many years of this, it begins to dawn on me that I may never stop, that this jumble of buildings, this chaos of people, will always beat its way past my every last cynical defense and soften the edges of my heart. I welcome the humility.

So you see perhaps they weren't commitment issues, after all; I just knew not to settle for anything less than magic.