When middle-school-aged me used to fly somewhere, I’d look down at the new city as we were landing, and wonder what life was like for the people there. The people who lived, EVERY DAY, in the places that we were so excited to visit for a little while – did they realize how cool their home was? Did they understand the amazingness of their ho-hum daily grind?
And … did they think the same thing about me, when they came to visit where I lived?
I still think that when I travel.
But this particular morning, I wasn’t traveling. I was just driving to work on a Wednesday. And something about the sunrise at 6:15 in the morning felt different. It felt like it should be a vacation day, somehow. It felt like how I used to feel driving to soccer camp in high school. It felt like heading to a day at the beach. It felt like a trip to the mountains for a hike. It felt like a ride to the airport with my fiance to go somewhere new.
It felt like the day should be special.
And, it was.
It was, because it was a new day, and it was sunny and warm out, and because I was at work.
It was, because there’s two Dunkin’ Donuts within walking distance to my office, and I strolled to the (second-closest) one for coffee before 8 a.m., about five hours earlier than I normally do.
It was, because it’s more fun to tiptoe along a wall rather than stay on the sidewalk.
It was, because I climbed up the giant rock in the parking lot that afternoon, but couldn’t climb back down, and Colin and Jo had to rescue me.
It was, because I get to design layouts and draw illustrations, and get PAID for it.
It was, because.
I’ve taken to drawing my kitty cat illustrations (ScribbleLeigh!) doing cool things when I go to new places. But that Wednesday, I drew her here. At work. At home. In the amazingness of my own ho-hum daily grind.
And if someone’s flying over my town, wondering what life is like down here, I’ll tell you: I’m trying to remember to love every minute.