PROSE / LIFE
If You Could Be, Do, or Live Anyway You Can Imagine, What Would That Look Like?
Who Would You Be?
I sink into my mattress the minute the duvet reaches my chin. I feel cool, and my mind seeks rest. Without excuses, I give it. Within minutes, I am asleep.
The morning begins how it always does. Sunlight peels into my apartment and just barely fills the bedroom. I blink a couple of times, because I always have that gunk in my eyes when I first wake up. Reach for water, stretch, and hastily get to the door to walk Milo.
Milo is the type of dog that never gets in trouble because his face is too sweet to look at. He pounces down the stairs and out the door like he’s never seen the daylight. As we walk down the New York City street, the sheer mass of his 70 pound body pulls me along. He goes to the restroom, we stop in Ines for a matcha latte or a coffee, depending on the day. And when we return home Milo eats like he’s never been full in his life.
After I shower and dress, I make the commute across my living room to the second bedroom of my apartment that serves as both an office and studio space. My paintings litter the walls and overflow onto the hardwood where some lean against the floorboard. I paint often, and it is both a comfort and a challenge in my simple life. I get through the workday in a flurry of interviews and emails — as a recruiter, I’d like to think helping others find work is meaningful work in and of itself.
For lunch, I meet my boyfriend Brandon at a diner down the street. We don’t talk about work. Our minds know how to separate work from play from life-threatening from irrelevant. We like it like that. I am fully with him when I am with him, fully working when I’m working, and fully resting when I’m resting. What we end up talking about are our family and friends — since we both work from home, we are taking a week-long trip to California to visit my family in May. My family is the light of my life. I call regularly, FaceTime often, and visit as much as I can. They are my rock, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world.
When I get back home, I walk Milo again. Brandon comes over and we work in tandem in separate rooms — I in the office, he in the living room probably watching Attack on Titan. We smile at each other contently when one of us grabs water, a snack, or a kiss in the meantime.
The day ends as they usually do. I FaceTime my family or see a friend for an hour — you know how everyone loves “getting drinks.” When I’m finished maybe Brandon stays over, or maybe he doesn’t, but either way we eat dinner together and maybe sing (we love music). I show him a painting I made last night and he shows me a piano piece he’s been working on.
We’re happy. I’m happy. My life is simple, and wonderful, and I sink into my mattress the minute the duvet reaches my chin. I feel cool, and my mind seeks rest. Without excuses, I give it. Within minutes, I am asleep.
Although one of the allures of life is the possibility around every corner, one of the joys of life is being content. If I could do anything, I would do what I’m doing now. I would paint and work and love and care for people. I would savor diner soda and dog walks and be proud of the music that seeps out of my boyfriend’s head. If I could jump to any stage of my life, I would stay in this one. I’m supposed to be in this one, now. What happened before led me here, and here will lead me somewhere else amazing — but I can’t skip it. If I could be anyone, I would make the simple decision to be myself. My life is my own, and I wouldn’t trade it or the people in it for anything in the world.
