The Spectacular Now

I close my eyes and meditate, every morning. I hear birds chirping all around me. I focus on their sound. It’s loud, fun, full. Always different, if I listen.

We just travelled over six thousand miles across the world to Italy and I’m now sitting on the terrace of the apartment in Rimini. I close my eyes and meditate. Birds are chirping everywhere. I focus on their sound. It’s loud, fun, full. Always different, if I listen.

I smile.

I took a walk on our street. A big tree has been cut down and all the other big trees along both sides of the road have been trimmed dramatically. New small trees have been planted. A huge visual and esthetic change. It takes me a few hours to adjust. 

The family run drug store at the corner has changed management. It was the place where everything felt known and special, since I was a child. That feeling of knowing what’s what is gone, the feeling of “everybody knows my name” isn’t there anymore. The warm welcome of the lady who owned it, the small talk that felt personal and reliable because it never really changed is no more. I almost ran out of there. Why did they sell? Don’t they know how important it was for me to rely on something stable?

Then I heard a seagull squawking, loudly, as if to shake me awake. I smile. I know. 

The only constant is change. 

For a second I forgot the spectacular now.