a note to myself.
remember that morning on your way to the job that you were happier and happier with every single day, because each of those days was one closer to the last, and every morning, you recalculated that number, in this case t-minus 18 and counting, and you were praying hourly to the god you don’t believe in that the city of ____ knew they needed you to work on their website on an ongoing part-time basis as much as you knew they needed you, because it could potentially keep you out of an office for a long time to come, back to writing code in the middle of the night so that your daytimes belonged only to you, and sometimes your friends, and could be filled with more important activities such as kickboxing and projects and rock-climbing and lunch. on that particular morning, as you merged onto crosstown with your coffee in one hand and your oatmeal-with-protein-powder-and-raisins in your lap, not only because it was convenient, but because it was warm, you noticed the sky, the gaudy, ridiculous pastels of every fake-mohair baby blanket your great-aunt ever knitted, and you saw the sun glinting off the wings of a banking dc-9, blinding you for a moment, and you were suddenly aware of possibilities; that you could go anywhere, and do anything you want, and that the limitations of cash and ambition are insignificant compared to the limitations of time. and you were happy, simply because you could be so gratified by so little, that sometimes the seemingly-insignificant events were the most meaningful if you just knew enough to pay attention to them, that you could find so much satisfaction in a wednesday sunrise, a shirt with pearl buttons, and those secrets which are yours alone. and then you were crying in your car on the way to work, the neck of your t-shirt getting cold and damp, because you were probably hormonal, but mostly because you were stupidly, unapologetically happy, and because the saddest thing you could imagine was that there are limits to how much you can do, to what you can possibly experience in one lifetime, and that someday all of this will end.