Quite a few weeks ago, on another Sunday, I woke up with Loo sleeping next to me. I could never sleep past seven because of my work hours, and Loo rarely gets to bed before 11 the night before. Our schedules were, and still are, almost an eight hour shift away from each other. This doesn’t put us in the greatest of moods, and makes us say things that we don’t mean (on my end, at least, I can’t speak for her).
Like on that Sunday, after waking up and sitting in the IKEA PELLO for an hour listening to my music, I was grumpy to say the least. I wasn’t tired enough to sleep, but I wasn’t rested enough to do anything.
I decided to just get out and walk, not suspecting how beautiful the autumn day was. Everything I loved most about the fall was in that morning; the light chill in the air, the layers of colours, the manifest atmosphere. The walk was brief, just along the canal and back, but it was a shiver of the senses that only comes out a few days of the year.
When I returned, I still wasn’t in the best of sorts. My frustration about our mismatched schedules was starting to come through. Loo got up and we argued, trying to figure out who was to blame. In the end, I realized that it wasn’t either of our faults, but we were both paying for it.
Even though we argued, we ended up resolving things, a little wiser, and still just as tired. Another hurdle jumped, another obstacle that won’t get in our way again. I like to think that only good came out of that morning, and that if it didn’t happen, I wouldn’t have experienced what I was meant to.
Like watching joggers kick up the autumn leaves strewn across the pavement.