Marking Time

Twenty four hours ago I cracked open the spine of the novel ONE DAY by David Nicholls.  I was immediately hooked on the tale of Emma and Dexter whom the reader meets on the same day over a period of twenty years.  The darkening sky outside my window signaled the passage of time.   I turned on a few lights and quickly prepared dinner not wanting to be away from the characters for too long.  By midnight my eyes were dry and scratchy.  Reluctantly, I retired to bed.  I intentionally woke up early to sift through a few more chapters before meeting a friend for a hike.  Em and Dex ambled on the trail with me, their banter fresh in my head.  I devoured the rest of the book before leaving the house again for an afternoon appointment.  ONE DAY underscores a familiar paradox-- how little things seem to change day to day, yet year to year monumental leaps have often been taken.  Two years ago, I had the opportunity to meet with a person who has been a profound source of inspiration.  In the moment, I knew our conversation would have a significant impact on my life.   And it did, but in ways I could never have anticipated.  A year later, to the day, I started my unplanned sabbatical.  Twelve months later my life unfolds as a gift of easy, uncomplicated days.  Stressed and exhausted, words I frequently used to describe my state of being, no longer appear in my vocabulary.   I spontaneously make plans, the benefit of a flexible schedule.  I am well rested.   Yes, well rested.  A condition I didn't think I'd experience again until old age.  Tomorrow's splendor awaits and I wonder which, if any, seemingly innocuous moments will have a noteworthy influence on my life a year from now.