What if tomorrow, the only things you woke up to were the things you were grateful for today?
Tomorrow I'll wake up in blank space, because if today is like every other day, I'll take my apartment for granted. I'll wake up floating in the ether, because I'll go to sleep taking my bed for granted.
I'll wake up in some floaty-grey-nothingness, and I sure hope I don't wake up hungry, because I won't have anything to eat. Because odds are today I won't be grateful for the food I eat, nor for the hands that prepared it. And it won't be long before dehydration sets in because I'll take everything I drink today for granted. Just like I did yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that.
Today, I'll take the water I drink for granted -- which is a real bummer, because I need water to live. And it's a real shame because 783 million people don't have access to clean water. Dang, water is something to rejoice for and to rejoice in. I wish I had called that fact to mind yesterday. Ugh.
Today, it is 93 degrees in Southern California and tomorrow I hear it'll be 95. Today I'll take my air-conditioned office for granted; tomorrow is going to be hot.
The way tomorrow is shaping up, it looks like I'll wake up self-employed. Only I won't have any employees or co-workers or work. I'll have nothing to sell, and no one to sell anything to -- and I'll have no computer and no phone and no desk.
Tomorrow is going to be rough.
Tomorrow I won't be able to return my brother's calls. I love him dearly; he hasn't heard me say that in quite some time. Neither have my sisters, nor my parents, nor my grandparents, nor my friends, nor my neighbors. God how I love them all. God how I'll miss them tomorrow.
A world absent of people, that's not going to be cool at all. I'll miss that beautiful old man at the corner of Euclid and Commonwealth. The man who dutifully wears a reflective vest and holds a stop sign at the crosswalk every morning and gently blows his whistle and helps kindergartners and their mothers cross the street safely on their way to school. I'll miss that man, tomorrow. Maybe I should ask him what his name is, and maybe I should tell him that we all notice? That we all care. That we're all grateful for him.
Tomorrow is going to be lonely if I don't do something differently today. If I don't do something soon.
I think I'll pick up the phone and make a few calls, and listen a bit more attentively to the birds. I love those birds, I didn't even notice them yesterday. I'll notice them yet. I've gotta run, I've got a lot to do. I've got a lot to be grateful for.
Tomorrow I'm going to make sure I wake up to the same world I fall asleep in today.
Today I won't be "too busy" to notice all of the reasons tomorrow is worth living for.
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