And then you have one of those days when you wake up just cursing all that lies before you, very existence itself. "Fuck!" But that's not enough. Not nearly. "Fuck fuck fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck!" What release, and yet, that day's still there facing you down. Those tow ten-mile bike rides. Those eight hours of standing. Those meals to cook. Ugh. Wahh. And still no one to hold.
And it's only 8:00 a.m. Fuck. Fuck. Before I know it, I'm on my bike and up the first hill. Then, ahh. Mother Sky felt gracious today, and the sky's all blue cottage cheese and white brush strokes. It's something that I just need to take the time to look at. To notice, to breathe in while I'm waiting for the light to change. Polarized lenses make it all the prettier, and before I know it again, the smog choked air tastes just a little bit sweeter and the Hollywood hills are a hazy silhouette in the distance. I thank God for such beauty before me with a smile and a catchy tune in my ear. His embrace is one so soft sometimes, but if I wish to feel it, it frees me, body and mind.
And then the day is mine, and impossible is nothing, and like doesn't really get much better if only I see it so. So I do, and I try to see everything, not just myself, but life everywhere. Maybe I'm just a guy on a bike on a bike path and no one looks upon my struggles with envy.
But with your eyes open and your head up, you see just how good you have it. You see the wheelchair and you see the boy being held at both arms trying to walk for the life of him, pushing one weak feeble foot before the other again and again. Mine eyes have never showed so much determination.
I fly by. And there in that moment I make another little deal with God. Because a tough day for me may be that boy's wondrous dream, and a smile on his face is intangible gold. So give him a day of smiles, dear God, and throw me your worst. Give me the shit, the storm, the mishap, the misstep, the ill decision of the day because I can take it, all of it, for the pile of sad that it would be. Give him the laugh, give him the joy. Coax his eyes away from that cracked, dirt-stained ground and towards that masterpiece above him. Leave him in wonder of the heavens, and please let him recognize it. Let him breathe it in, and let it warm his soul.
He most certainly could, and he should. And I asked and offered congenially so why wouldn't he? For his sake, I hope He does.
I'm ready for it.
