Post Night Shift

It was close to 12 a.m., and by that time I had survived 42 hours with about 5 hours of sleep. Predictably, my mind being its stubborn self, decided to churn the wheels and fire the neurons rather than rest.

In the stillness of midnight,
I thought about whether I am doing enough with my life. Have I grown into my skin enough now that I am approaching a new digit to front my age? Am I still the same optimistic girl who viewed the world through rose-tinted plum-colored Ray Ban-wannabe sunglasses? I wonder why have I not saved the world with my wit (or lack of) and wisdom, why aren't I out in the middle of the forest hugging trees to stop the roaring excavators. Why have I not found the cure for everything?

Oh dreams of the child, blown big by imagination, pulled back by the ropes of reality.

The creaking cerebellum, frozen by mundanity, kept alive by randomness.

So I told myself that I need to find some oil for the brain and the soul. Not the romanticized movie version of dropping everything and going halfway round the globe but rather, to find solace in the intervals between routine. The small moments.

The writing, the learning, the taking pride in my vocation. The kindness, humility and compassion. To do something wholeheartedly and expect nothing in return.

I willed myself to remember all this when I wake up the next morning. And for the other mornings after. Can or not, girl?