Slowing down

Glancing at the watch on my wrist, I grimaced. So much so for being up at 4:45 AM. It was 7:10 and I was yet to leave. Standing by the doorway I resisted an impulse to rush to the girls bedroom and give them kisses before I dashed out the door. Turning the ignition on, I regretted missing out on that one ritual that guaranteed a great start to the day.

Headphones on, I caught up with my mom for a good 20 odd minutes. Slipping into the right lane, I slowed down. Eyes searching for a gas station, I nodded my head in agreement with whatever it was my mom was saying. Spying a Shell sign, I made a quick turn. Powering off the phone, I tugged my coat a little closer against the biting cold. Watching the numbers inch up as the machine pumped oil into my tank, I had an epiphany. Where was I rushing to? Did missing out on kissing the girls goodbye really impact the time I got into work? What was that five minutes in the grand scheme of things?

Resolving to slow down, I got back into the car seeing the world with new eyes. Inching patiently at what was the millionth red light for that morning, I smiled. I looked around. A driver on my left was gesturing rather angrily at the car in front of him. An old bald-headed grandpa sat in front of me in no hurry to get anywhere. Passerby’s hurried in the cold before the lights changed. Everybody seemed to be moving. In a mad rush to get somewhere. To do something. They looked like people with a mission. Suddenly I felt like the odd one out.

Parking in the garage, I almost whistled a tune to myself. Resolving to keep a chirpy face, I made small talk with a woman in the elevator. Crossing the road, I had a goofy smile plastered on my face. I almost skipped and jumped along the wide pavement that led to my workplace.

Entering through the glass doors, I glanced at my watch again. 8:15 AM. 10 minutes. That’s all. That was all the difference between the mad rush I was in most days and deciding to slow down. Perhaps I should slow down.

Happy Friday folks!