It’s a funny thing sometimes – when something you want to happen doesn’t happen, you get disappointed. But then, serrendipitously, it happens without preamble, and you have two paths to choose. You can choose to enjoy it, to revel in the fact that it’s finally happening, or you can choose to turn the bitter side up and regret that it didn’t happen when you wanted it to happen before.
Ever since we moved into this house, I’ve thought of “Come summer, I’ll have friends over and we’ll have a BBQ and jump in the pool and chit chat and just enjoy,” but never once did it happen until today. Despite all my efforts in three and a half years, I couldn’t get the motivation rolling among my friends, many and varied. And only now, a week and a half out from my leaving this house, I get what I wanted, however petty or strange it may sound.
In my darker moments, I would turn to the bitter path, regretting and resenting those who disappointed me before – in a way, I might say I realise who my friends really were, that those I once called friends at the end of school by and large proved to be different, that I was forcing myself into a social circle that showed itself to be not my natural level. In my darker moments, I contemplate these things overmuch.
But today (and last night, which was a similar wish of mine), and thus probably in perpetuity, it was a good day. And on good days, you smile and you laugh and you enjoy the company of those around you, and you remember it as a good day, or a good night if that be the case, and you are thankful for the fact that what you wanted came about, however roundabout the impetuous, and you leave it at that. Because it was a good day.