A Successful Day
© Copyright 2019 by Laura Labno
In the light of the significance of love every other significance fades away - This thought seemed significant to her.
It was being played out over and over again – She could hear it in the sound of the Welsh rain hitting the bus windows, it was being sung out by the melancholy of the grey street the bus was drifting through. Even the rushing cars seemed to be humming it. And her own breath, and the bus itself…
A successful day – She thought to herself – That’s what it was - A successful day.
Her window reflection looked at her doubtfully so she looked away, intimidated by her own judgement.
It was – She repeated in her mind. There was not reason to be unhappy. Not on that day.
Wasn’t her life generally rather lucky, anyway? Filled with some struggle and some sadness, like all lives, of course. But, after all, everything was usually turning out fine, at last. She had friends who loved her, she had a dad who loved her, she lived in a country she’s chosen to live in and studied at a University she’s chosen to study at. She was getting good grades, many people liked her and she was even moderately talented. She liked to paint, play guitar and sing and, on top of that, people were constantly saying that she was pretty. She was finding it hard to believe it, of course - children told her so many times that she was ugly when she was little. Why would they say it if she was pretty? But people were saying that anyway and she couldn’t deny that it was flattering to hear it.
She was replaying those blessings in her mind but the feeling of dissatisfaction wasn’t going away.
She’s decided to analyse the situation
She was sitting in a bus. Bus number 5C. And it was raining, and the atmosphere was strange and ambiguous. And she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was.
She just got a job that she wanted to get – She was supposed to become a homecare assistant now. She was finally going to do something that would help other people and what was, at the same time, somehow relevant to the degree she was doing.
Some sort of joy has arisen in her heart, some sort of pride. Yes, this was the spark she was waiting for. She looked through the window – The view of the little welsh houses, the mountains and the melancholic fields was calmly smiling at her from distance. And she smiled back.
But then, what was it? Something not quite as joyful was slipping through that smile as well. Could it be sadness? How could it?
Bitter and grey like the sky on that day. Or perhaps more…. sick blue like the sea.
Sick blue, that’s what it was. Sick blue sadness was slipping through her smile and she wondered whether the houses and the mountains and the fields would notice it? Would they be judgemental?
So many blessings she’s received. So many.
It was the melody, of course, the familiar tune resounding in everything around her that was making her feel that way.
He did not Love her. He loved somebody else.
Shouldn’t the significance of all the blessings she’s received out-weight this truth?
It should. And yet,
since in the light of the significance of love every other significance fades away – It just somehow