As the sun sets on another day, the dark blue of the night sky blends into a joyful green. The clouds streak across the horizon like tiger stripes. The cool sauvignon blanc whispers hello to my lips and washes away the creamy milk chocolate. Shut off from the world under my headphones and folded into the angles and cushions of the chair, I turn the pages of my book, Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor E. Frankl.
The words portray a life that I cannot imagine… but I can. I can because I understand that there are harsh realities of life, deep and unrelenting; and yet his was so much worse off than mine. I turn the pages and absorb the words. They sit heavily in my brain, pulling at my heart. I take another sip with an air of solace and appreciation, with his experiences shaping mine.
I am lucky to be drinking from this glass, on this day. To be flicking those bits of chocolate out from in between my molars. To be listening to music that I’ve chosen through the internet. To be sitting in a chair that has been lovingly gnawed at by a dog. To be watching the sunset for another day.