Life Comes At You Fast

Project 365, Day 109/365

You know that commercial that goes “Life comes at you fast”? I think it’s a Nationwide insurance commercial. I was thinking about that today as Charles and I took a little afternoon drive (that turned out to be a total dud because traffic was awful, so we spent most of the time trying to weave in and out of cars…#LosAngeles). Mostly, about how quickly life can change. Literally, in nearly an instant. And while yeah, it can all change for the worst, it can also change for the better…or at least the different.

I’m feeling a bit plateaued lately with my body progress, in fact dipping a little bit backward the last week, but as I was looking out the window at the people riding their bikes along the boardwalk and playing with their dogs on the sand, I remembered that just because your reality looks one way today, doesn’t mean it has to look that way tomorrow.

Then, just as quickly as it came, the thought was gone. Only to be resurfaced as I sat here at my dining room table, looking around the room for inspiration of what to write today. I didn’t want to pen another “self-help” themed post, because that’s not really what this blog is…though it sure kind of feels that way lately. I wanted to tell a little story of some sort, but nothing was coming to me. Then my eyes searched through the big frame of small photos above my sofa and landed on a photo of a beach sunrise. The photo up top there, to be exact.

I remember that morning so clearly. Instagram tells me it was March 3, 2018. Charles and I still lived in Florida, a 10-12 minute drive from the coast. Several weekends leading up to March 3, Charles would ask me if I wanted to go to the beach and watch the sunrise. Me, a sleeper, always liked the idea of that…sounded so charming and romantic. But then the day would come and I’d grunt and moan and turn over, closing my eyes tight enough that I’d hope he’d just drop it.

That morning though, he wouldn’t drop it. To catch the sun coming up over the horizon, we would have to be in our car headed east by just before 5 am. The alarm went off at probably something like 4:30, and I was NOT having it. I grunted. I moaned. I’m pretty sure I even yelled. I huffed. I puffed. I was a monster. “Fine, I’m going without you,” Charles finally said, tired of my crap. He’s not necessarily a morning person, but he has far more discipline than I am about waking up early, that’s for sure.

“Then go alone, see if I care,” I thought as I nestled back into my warm bed, though I may have said it out loud. I can’t remember. But then, I felt the heavy quilt of guilt pulled up over me, and I did that tug of war you do inside your mind when half of you is trying to convince yourself to do something, and the other half doesn’t feel like budging. That morning, I don’t know how it happened, but the better side, the side that answered to adventure and keeping her then-fiance happy, won. I shot out of bed, stomped my way out of the room to check that Charles was still home, and told him to wait. I was coming, I just needed to change. Rightfully so, he urged me to hurry up. It was already past 5, and we were going to miss it. Because of me. Because I’m an insufferable baby-slash-monster if I’m dragged out of bed too early.

We could see the dawn creeping into the early morning sky. Charles was not pleased. I’m sure in his mind, we would have been planted in the sand still in the dark, awaiting the sun, sweetly holding hands or something. That was not how it went down. I’m pretty sure he demanded I not ruin that morning any further with complaints about how sleepy I was. He had warned me before getting in the car that if I wasn’t committed to enjoying it along with him, I could stay home. I mustered up every ounce of underslept energy I had and faked being non-grumpy. “Can we get breakfast and coffee after?” You see, I’m highly motivated by the idea of a breakfast sandwich. And coffee. It’s maybe my favorite meal of the day, so had the answer to that been “no,” I probably would never have seen the sunrise that day. But it was “yes” because Charles knows what’s good for him.

By the time we finished the short drive to the beach, the sun was already fully past the point where the water meets the sky. Everything was still warm and glowy, though. I didn’t want to admit right then and there, as we were looking for parking, that this was, in fact, pretty dang nice. We weren’t the only ones that had the idea to head to the water that morning. Charles delighted in pointing that out to me, as if to say “see, you act like I’m a lunatic for wanting to do this, when clearly other people do this all the time.” Fine, he was right.

We grabbed our beach blanket and sweaters, walked down the narrow wooden steps onto the sand, and sat in silence, marveling at the way the sunlight danced and sparkled across the water. I have to say, there is nothing quite like the hushed, still dawn at the ocean. The waves crash just a bit softer somehow, the seagulls don’t squawk but rather coo. Even they know it’s too early to cause a raucous.

At some point, I looked over at the orange tint on Charles’ face, swallowed my pride and said, “Okay. This was worth it.” Actually, maybe not. Chances are high I said something cheeky and accusatory like “why haven’t you thought to do this sooner?” knowing full well he had. It’s likely I went the button-pushing route.

I remember sitting there, on that Boca Raton beach, thinking “this place isn’t so bad.” It’s not that I didn’t like living there, it’s just that I wanted something more, something bigger, something more exciting. I had lived in Florida essentially my entire life, and I was ready to experience something else. But at that moment, I found some peace with where I was.

And then it all changed.

You see, on March 3, 2018, I had exactly 0% of a clue that three days later, I’d be interviewing for a job clear across the country. And a day after that, I’d be offered that job, essentially uprooting mine and Charles’ entire lives. In the blink of an eye (or however many blinks you take in three days), my situation did a 180, and I didn’t really see it coming. It was just one of those things that happened, as the best things do.

The following weekend, after the idea of moving to California had started digging its way into our very nervous brains, Charles said to me “and to think last weekend, we were sitting at the beach, watching the sunrise, looking forward to more.” The sun doesn’t rise at the ocean in California. It sets, which is wonderful in its own right, but different nonetheless. One moment, our life looked one way. The next, well, it looked very different. In a scary yet exciting and promising way.

That’s how life does you sometimes. It stays lurking behind a corner, then pops up out of nowhere and screams “HEY GUESS WHAT?!?” Oh, you liked that sunrise you waited seven years to watch? Well, get ready for something else.

I need some “HEY GUESS WHAT?!?” right now, though. Remembering these experiences always gives me so much hope and extends my patience out just a little bit more. I’m lucky to have that to look back on.

See you tomorrow, FOAS.