My first time embracing routine
My last two weeks have been filled with revisiting things once familiar —
With visiting the things I’ve forgotten for too long, and doing so with a new perspective.
I have not been able to stop smiling to save my life.
It was a little after 8 this morning when I opened the little glass door of one of the establishments that sold me on moving to Gainesville three years ago.
A long, thin and visibly bored girl with short curls started to pour me a to-go cup of homemade granola and almond milk.
I’d been out of town for more than a week, but apparently people don’t forget how much you like their granola.
The idea of routine may seem to contradict the very foundation of what this blog stands for –
On the contrary.
Every day deserves the opportunity of the unknown,
But there’s also beauty in knowing what you like
and embracing it.
All the more beautiful is approaching a familiar experience with a new mind every time you encounter it.
I could never understand why someone would read the same book more than once, but I’ve found that a growing mind changes with the fingers of a clock.
If you watch one film a second time, and you aren’t left with a slightly different perspective or a new knowledge of something you may have missed in the first impression — then perhaps my thoughts are underdeveloped
But as I shook the miniature right hand of the giggling two-foot-tall, Marti, I realized the beauty of a changing routine.
She was here the Monday before last at the same time.
We were the only two tables, given the hour, and she must have been on her way to kindergarten class.
She shared a table with mother and father who I assumed to be recently divorced as I listened in occasionally through my sips of coffee.
All of this was merely a character development I was building in my head in between pre-work writing and bites of ginger granola.
She was very sweet and mature for her ripe old age of what I guessed to be 4 and a half.
Her father encouraged her to introduce herself to the “big girl,” and I remember being mildly annoyed at the thought that that was my new identification.
She walked over and told me her name.
She said she also enjoyed granola in the mornings before school.
I offered my right hand and taught her how to do the same, look me in the eye and hold on tight for her very first handshake.
She bounced and gurgled and jumped about a little.
I could tell she was particularly proud of herself.
I returned this morning for the first Monday in two weeks to write.
Sure enough, Marti was there.
It had been two weeks since she’d reminded me that it’s okay to smile and that we shouldn’t forget to dance.
When she made her way to my chair “to shake hands with Ashley” I saw the beauty in revisiting a situation.
One year ago I moved to Brooklyn for a short summer to make my first video and experience my first Independence Day in the city of dreams. I returned this year to go to a new take on the same party I ended with exactly one year ago. Here are the pictures from my City Fox Experience. Don’t forget to dance.