How did I get here? To this moment in time?
It was never a part of the plan, to be stuck in a dead-end job, going nowhere, running around like a hamster in a 6×6 cubicle, going through the motions. No, I expected so much more from life.
Yet, here I am, in my 40’s, feeling as if I’m being buried alive. And for what? A job I don’t even like? Or care about?
I glare at my computer screen, on autopilot, and continue to move numbers around, from one column to another.
What’s the point? It’s all moot.
Elena’s bright laughter snaps me out of my zombie-state. Like clockwork Callum makes his rounds and stops at her desk to perform his daily comedy routine. I peek over the flimsy divider, feeling like the nosy neighbour in hopes to catch a glimpse of the next office drama unfold.
Drama/Romance. It’s all the same farce, right?
“Why don’t scientists trust atoms?” Callum asks, reciting one Dad-joke after the other in an attempt to make Elena laugh. Obviously he's putting on the charm. And he doesn’t have to try hard. “Because they make up everything.”
O.M.G. That’s not even funny.
Clearly Elena thinks otherwise because she throws her head back in fits of laughter. I don’t get it.
“Why don’t some couples go to the gym?”
I won’t be able to take more of this and he’s going to go on and on if nobody stops him. She presses her lips together in gleeful anticipation.
“Because some relationships don’t work out…”
Elena cracks up to the point it’s unclear to me whether she’s laughing or crying.
Ok, I admit, that one was a little funny.
I look back at my computer screen and sigh heavily. This job was supposed to be a stepping stone, a means to an end. But now…I’m working 24/7 with no time for anything I actually enjoy, because I’m always too exhausted at the end of the day to simply…live. Every single day I spend 10-12 hours at the office. The rest of the time I eat, sleep and…well, that’s about it.
Ain’t life great?!
“Why did the coffee file a police report…”
I close my eyes and take another deep breath. At this point I’m getting desperate. There is no way I can keep doing this for another 20 years.
“It got mugged!”
That’s it. I need to get out of here.
I stand up so abruptly that both Elena and Callum look my way. I send them an apologetic wave, grab my bag and walk out. Because…why not? I’m taking a mental health day.
My whole life I’ve sung the same old tune: I can’t. Fear has guided every decision I’ve made.
Be responsible. Be sensible, practical and wise.
I’ve become an expert finding excuses as to why I shouldn’t do this or that, or take risks. But today, I’m throwing caution to the wind. I'm choosing to say: Why not?, starting with walking away from this place.
As I step onto the sidewalk outside the office building, I already feel my chest grow lighter. It instantly becomes easier to breathe. The sun warms my face and although I’m in the city centre, it’s early enough that it’s still fairly quiet and peaceful…for a big city.
I start to walk. And I walk. I’m going nowhere in particular. I just walk. And I don’t stop walking until I get to a charming park. The beautiful array of trees heal my spirit, and pull my body toward a lonely bench to enjoy their exquisite performance. The whole scene is serene and soothing. Exactly what I need.
I’m about to start to indulge in some prime-time bench bonding when beautiful guitar-strumming echoes through the air. My eyes scan the area and connect with a guitarist sitting a few feet away on my right.
Was he here this whole time and I just didn’t notice until now?
His music reaches my soul in a way music never has. Maybe it’s the surroundings. Or maybe it’s me. I’ve changed. Today, I’m in a different place. Living in the here and now, with open eyes and new-found perspective. It feels strangely liberating.
I want more out of life.
I do the unexpected. I move closer. Because why not? Doubting my out-of-the-norm-decision, I hesitate before I sit down on the bench beside him. He looks up, continues to play, and smiles. I never smile at strangers. Not anymore. I never take a moment to look up and acknowledge people around me. I didn’t used to be like that. In high school my motto was Smile at the world and the world will smile back. What happened to that girl? Somewhere down the road, she stopped smiling.
“It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it?”
It’s fascinating how he can simultaneously play and make conversation. Impressive. I nod, because I don’t know what to say.
“I’m Jasper Reid.”
I should introduce myself. I wouldn’t want to be rude.
“I’m Lyra…Hayes.”
His limber fingers continue to pluck the strings, creating magic that sets the mood.
“What brings you to my woods, Lyra?”
The question is simple enough, but I have a hard time putting words to why I decided to walk away from my desk, without a plan. Without direction.
“Living,” I finally say.
He nods as if he knows exactly what that means, which is funny because I don’t. Not really.
I take in his casual attire and relaxed poise. He doesn’t appear to be homeless. Nothing about him suggests he’s living on the streets.
“What about you?” I ask. My new Why not?-attitude is working wonders. I don’t recognize myself. The boldness. When he doesn’t respond right away I start to regret my atypical move. But then he speaks.
“Two years ago I was diagnosed with severe depression…I had extensive treatment…and I’m much better now,” he hurries to say, “but it took time to get back on my feet…” He looks up and smiles soberly. “I made a promise to myself so I wouldn’t go back to that dark place…”
I’m intrigued and hang on every word.
“Try something new each day…Today, I decided to play my guitar in public…That’s what I’d call…living.”
A profound understanding flashes between us. Playing it safe isn’t always the right way. Maybe there is something to this new why-not-approach?
We sit for a long while enjoying the majestic view and company, or until he rises from the bench, packs his guitar, turns to me with a kind smile and an out-stretched hand.
“It was a pleasure, Lyra Hayes…Keep on living.” And just like that, he’s gone.
….
The next day…
I’m back to my 6×6 cubicle, and the numbers don’t look as bad as they did yesterday. I examine the fresh ink on my wrist I got after meeting the guitarist at the park:
Keep Living…
It’s a reminder that every single day is precious and how important it is to look up, pause and breathe. Maybe one day I will be brave enough to hand in my resignation. Maybe I will be strong enough to walk out that door and never look back.
Why not?
Whether I will or not, I’ll always have yesterday.
For now, that’s enough.
Comentarios