Exhausted. I was just coming home from the long shift at the restaurant. Almost midnight, and since it was a busy night, I didn’t have time to eat, so I was carting Taco Bell in one hand, because that was all that was open. I had just turned down an invitation to go out with my coworkers after work, and internally I found myself cursing at my body and the world for making all twenty somethings happy go lucky night owls while I seem to live as if I am in my forties with three kids. Beating the sun for my ten mile seemed almost impossible at this point, and I felt incredibly frustrated at just about everyone and everything, even if I couldn’t put my finger on why that was necessary. And then, as I put the key in the door, I looked over my shoulder and saw a family sitting outside on a blanket, having a picnic in the dark, under the hazy orange lights that hang over the apartment complex. Little children ran around their parents like sprites. Women in hijab broke bread and laughed with each other.
Humbling, to realize how little the rest of this big blue earth cares about your insignificant concerns.