Magic of everyday life

When Alex slowly opened his eyes he saw his white ceiling, exactly how it was when he went to bed. He shoved his duvet to the other side of the bed and slid into his slippers that were put neatly next to the bed. He walked over to the bathroom and splashed some water in his face. It was always the first thing he did in the morning, he found that when he didn’t he would feel like he wasn’t really awake all day. With a dripping face he looked at himself in the mirror. This was his face. His nose, his mouth and his eyes. He recognized it. It felt like his. Even the freckles in his nose were familiar. He never counted them, but he knew they were there. Everyday the same face stared back at him from the mirror.

He dried the remaining drops with a towel and stepped back into bed. Next to him, on the bedside table, there lay a book with a carefully made bookmark, which he grabbed. He always read for a little while in the morning. The paper pages felt comforting and safe. After that he always meditated. He could not sustain it for long periods at a time, but he tried. Alex always wanted to go do the next thing. He often found that he didn’t enjoy half the things he did that day for he would always look towards the next thing. Alex didn’t like that about himself.

After his meditation he stepped out of bed again and did his morning stretches. Alex didn’t like working out very much, but he did like to stretch. He also very much liked to run. After his exercise he stepped into the shower and turned the heat up. He enjoyed hot showers. Alex made himself breakfast and sat in silence while he ate it at the kitchen table. For a while he tried turning on the radio in the morning, but he couldn’t stand the sound of the commercials. It seemed like those breaks were getting longer by the day.

As soon as the hands pointed to eight o’clock Alex stood up from his chair, put his bowl in the sink and took his coat from the coat rack. He grabbed his laptop and his bag, looked one more time at his face in the mirror in the hallway. It was still his face. Only now there was a bit of porridge in his beard. He ran his hands through his beard to clean it and wiped them on his trousers.

Opening his front door invited the autumn wind inside and feeling the breeze ripple through his coat and down to his chest. Goosebumps spread all over his body. Biting his lip he made the first step outside. Every step after that felt easier, but the intense cold stayed. No fire or woolen coat could protect him against it. The last couple winters had all been this cold. Alex used to love the winters, but as he got older the winters seemed to lose their charm. The winter holidays didn’t seem as magical as they used to and so all that was left in the winter was just rain and a freezing wind. But still Alex couldn’t get himself to not love the trees without their leaves, or the way a crisp morning smelled.

He often found himself conflicted. On the one hand he would love to spend his entire days in bed during the colder winter months, but on the other hand he wouldn’t want to miss anything that is happening in the outside world. Everyday when he walks to work he comes across numerous people living their own little lifes, with their own little problems in their minds. They walk past him without ever noticing him. Alex also often finds himself looking up at the sky while walking to work. The baby blue color and grey clouds that drift past always seemed to amaze him.

The morning walk to his work was Alex’s favorite part of the day. He always arrived refreshed and was ready to take on the day. His job was a standard 9 to 5 where Alex had his own cubicle. Alex had been working for this office for nearly 4 years now. He had never liked the work, but he could sit for hours at his desk just staring at his colleagues. Most of them looked just as mundane as the job was. They had tidy dark-blond hair, sometimes even brown, and they always wore these very neat blouses. Most of the time they were white, but sometimes a rare greyish color made an appearance in the office. And they all had their own briefcase with them of course. Everyday Alex would see dozens of people entering the building and they all looked the same. There was hardly anything that divided them. Sure, when you got to know them there wouldn’t be too the same. Everyone is their own unique person with an enormous amount of differences between them. No two people are the same, after all. Alex knew all these popular sayings, but still he couldn’t imagine his colleagues being any kind of interesting. And so he spent his days in his cubicle. Not liking the hours of work he was putting in, but enjoying the people around him even more.

He often found himself wandering the streets after 5 o’clock. Just to get a bit more steps in that day. Als he found the transition from day into night southing. Like there was something constant he could always count on. There were a million stars above his head, numerous planets and maybe even countless universes. And yet he was here, walking on a pavement in a neighbourhood he didn’t know. Worrying about his deadlines at work or who to vote for in the election. It all seemed so meaningless and still so incredibly important. What was it like out there? Was there someone looking up at the darkening sky a million lightyears away? Would we ever know?

On some days, when he had nothing to do he would think about him thinking. It was the most basic thing that he could think to think about. If you think about it, consciousness is a particularly strange thing. How can we be aware of our thoughts? It doesn’t seem necessary for a species to survive or procreate. Numerous animals do just fine without it. So why us? ‘And why me?,’ Alex often thought. Why did I make the cut and became human? When you search for answers online you see stuff like: Because God thought that the world needed someone like you, or any other cliché quote someone made up. Alex didn’t believe quotes like that. What could he possibly have to offer as a human? Maybe if he was a bee, pollinating flowers and making honey. He could do some good as a bee. Or maybe an owl. Alex didn’t know what good owls did, but he liked them. They have rotating heads and a spectacular night vision. He thought it’d be cool if he had night vision. 

Alex could never think about these for long periods of time.  For he had no answers to them and it made his head hurt. He liked difficult questions, but he also liked the answers. So when the smartest people on the planet weren't able to find the answers, he certainly wasn’t and so he didn’t like to spend much too much time on them.

On his walk home from work he usually stopped by the local grocery store to pick up some ingredients for his meal that night. He never really bought in bulk since he never knew what he wanted to have for dinner beforehand. This particular night he planned on making a casserole for himself. He bought some mince, spinach, cheese and potatoes. He was sure he still had some carrots and broccoli at home. After paying the attendant he stepped outside again and was surprised by a rainstorm that had pulled up. Luckily he always packed an umbrella as it often rained where he lives. Since moving to this country he had gotten accustomed to the frequent rainfall and even started to enjoy it. As he saw people rushing into their homes or a store to find shelter from the rain Alex enjoyed the silence that it created. There was something magical about rainfall. You could see little kids jump around in puddles and their mothers and fathers rush them along.

When did we stop jumping in puddles? Alex thought to himself. He had a fleeting memory of himself as a child splashing around in a rainstorm. Where he grew up there wasn’t much rainfall, but when it did rain  he would always go outside to play. And so, in a moment of impulsiveness he jumped in a puddle. With his good pair of shoes, his neat trousers and his groceries in his hand. A smile spread across his face. Some people looked up in their hurry to stop and stare at this grown man splashing around but they didn’t give it a lot of time. It took only a couple seconds before they were once again immersed in their own lives and their own troubles. Soon forgetting that they also had enjoyed the rain and jumping in puddles once and that they could again. If they wanted.

As Alex walked through the rain he saw his  apartment building looming around the corner. The entire building was a dirty shade of white. Almost grey. Sporadically you could see a splash of color in the windows, but Alex never counted on it. He dreaded coming home to this building every night. His heart sank into his stomach and he felt his smile fade from his face. Alex had never liked the color grey.

A long time ago he had a grandmother, who died from cardiac arrest. Alex was only seven, but she had already passed the age of ninety and hadn’t been enjoying life anymore like she used to. Alex knew this but he still couldn’t believe she had left him alone. She had spoiled him, of course, as all grandmothers do. But they also had something else. An understanding. A similar way of looking at life. Practical, yet with an outlook on life of utmost wonder. It was a weird combination, but they understood each other. They could spend hours and hours doing the most mundane things and yet be completely fascinated by it. 

They would often do the dishes together and have conversations about the soap, the water and the way they worked on the plates and the silverware. No one could stand doing such boring chores as long as they could. This was of course an advantage for the rest of the family since they didn’t have to wash up after dinner now. Or vacuum the floors. Or do the washing, because Alex and his grandma were more than happy to spend time together doing those chores. And then suddenly she left him. He saw her only one more time after that. In a grey nightgown laying on her bed, like she was just sleeping. He knew she wasn’t. 

A lot of grown-ups had warned him that it would look like she could wake up any second. Like she was still in there, but that wasn’t the case. Alex had thought all those warnings were a little over the top. He would know someone was dead when he saw them. They couldn’t look the same, that was impossible. But now that he stood there, next to her bed, he knew she would open her eyes any moment now. She would just get up and play with him, like she always did. But that didn’t happen. His grandmother never again would help him get through a day or cheer him up. She had left him. And he was alone once more.

He walked around the corner and entered the building.

When Alex opened his front door he started preparing his meal right away. He knew of himself that the longer he waited the harder it was to get off the couch. He wanted to cook a healthy meal for himself, but the couch sometimes got in the way of that. There had been multiple occasions where Alex decided he could rest on the couch, for just a couple minutes. Only to realise later that evening that he had no motivation whatsoever to get up and make himself dinner. And so he learned the hard way that he had to start with the preparations right away. And he did. When cutting his vegetables and potatoes he usually put in some music to sing along. He didn’t know if he could sing somewhat in key or that even the neighbours cat had to close his ears. He didn't really care. Alex loved belting out the high notes like nobody could hear him. At first he always felt a little ashamed that the neighbours would think something of it, but after a while he forgot everything except the words to the songs.

That night was like any other night. He consumed his portion of the casserole and put the leftovers in the fridge. He always made too much for himself. As if he had never learned the portions for one person, even though that’s all he had ever cooked for. He would try to eat the leftovers in the next couple days, but most of the time he would throw them out. Alex had always hated throwing out food, but he would still wait too long to eat it or make too much of something. Sometimes he couldn’t cope with his own hypocrisy. He felt like he wanted to do better than he did but could never get himself to do it. Like change was just simply not possible for him, just because he had gotten so used to doing things a certain way. Alex made the intention to really eat the leftovers this time.

While eating his dinner he thought back to earlier that evening, when he was outside in the rain. He had smiled then, he recalled. Alex didn’t smile very often. Despite everything that was good in his life, he never really smiled. Alex wondered why that was. He had never really thought about it until now. He tried to think back to moments where he smiled, but couldn't remember any. Did that mean he was unhappy? Wasn’t smiling a must for a happy life? Alex suddenly  felt the palms of his hands get sweaty and his heartbeat rose. He didn’t think he was unhappy, but how could he be certain? He didn’t want to be unhappy. Was he? He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to slow his heart down. No need to worry about it, it won’t do you any good, he thought to himself. He felt calmer after a couple breaths. It had been a long time ago since he felt the panic rise in his chest. He could remember the last time he had a full on panic attack and quietly thanked his heart for letting him be able to calm it down.

Alex had worked very hard in his life to be able to live comfortably and be financially stable. He had come from a lower-class income and had to pay for his college tuition all by himself. He later paid off his debt and started working. He had always worked full-time and put a lot of time and effort into his jobs. He liked working and being able to afford all the things he wanted. Or at least, most of them. But what if after everything he had done he found out he wasn’t happy? He had studied and worked hard all of his life, but he had never learned how to be happy. He had always thought that that would just come automatically. It wasn’t meant  to be something you had to find, was it? What if it was? How was he ever going to find this happiness while also working fifty hours a week.

Alex was dubbing like this for quite a while, even after he finished his dinner and had washed up the dishes. Even after he went on a nightly jog around the block he still couldn't get the idea out of his head. In the shower he wondered whether he had been unhappy his entire life without noticing it. Or maybe it was a development from recent years. These thoughts occupied his brain for most of the evening. It wasn’t until he was on the couch with a hot chocolate in his hand that he came upon a new thought. Maybe he just didn’t smile a lot, but was still happy. Smiling didn’t necessarily have to be an equivalent of happiness, had it? He was sure there were loads of people out there who didn’t smile, just because they didn’t think of it. They don’t all have to be unhappy. He thought back to his smile from earlier that evening. He liked smiling. Maybe he should smile more often. Just because he could. He practised it in the mirror that evening. It took him some time but he got used to his smile. He even liked the way that he looked.

I should try this outside, Alex thought. Just to see how it feels to smile in the street. And so he went outside, even though it was getting dark now. And he walked around town with the biggest smile in his face he could muster. For the first time he actually looked at the people crossing him in the street. He didn't avoid their eyes as usual, but looked right at them. And to Alex’s  surprise they looked back. Not a quick glance followed by an uninteresting shigh, but a real look. He got the feeling that they actually saw him. Which was such a weird concept that Alex quickly dismissed it. But he couldn’t get the thought out of his head. He walked and walked with this massive smile on his face and people kept looking back at him. Some even smiled back at him and nodded. And Alex nodded back. After forty minutes of walking he returned to his apartment. It was weird, he thought. Just weird. At the same time he felt this burning sensation in his heart. As if he could shout from the rooftops how he loved everyone in the city and maybe even in the whole world. He maybe would’ve done it if he had known how to get up to the roof, but he was pretty sure only the janitor had the key. And so he picked up his now cold chocolate milk and settled on the couch. After finishing it he brushed his teeth and tucked himself into bed. The burning feeling in his chest still hadn’t faded completely and so he turned and turned for a long time before he fell asleep. But when he finally did, he had the best and most peaceful sleep he experienced in years.