Blog 57 | Another Day

My best friend’s first child was just born, moments ago. I’m here, now, at the hospital. I don’t feel anything particularly compelling, yet, but I wanted to write this moment down. Born at 12:00 am on the dot, I arrived at the hospital at 14 minutes before, at 11:46 pm. I brought a gift I made and a vase with blue orchids. The gift is a black & white message board with the child’s name, date of birth, time of birth, and weight, 6 lbs 10 oz, next to a printed black & white photo I took last night of my friend and his wife laying together on the hospital bed. My friend came out to see me around 12:25 am. We spoke for a moment, I showed him the gift, we talked, we hugged, we were ecstatic. He was calm in demeanor but beaming, dazed, happy. The night is pristine, with a pure black sky, an energetic wind, a full or close to full moon, bright. I don’t know what the over head for this is, or if this is a blog. But if there is a theme or some essence to be drawn—and if there is it’s a wisp of smoke I’m trying bottle—if there is, it’s something along the lines of how strange it is it that today, a special day, a meaningful day, feels in this moment just the same as all the rest. Maybe that’s where the beauty lies. That each day can be this meaningful, the events are arbitrary, and our interpretations paint the colors of our days, and so our lives. Today felt like a normal day, but life was brought into the world, I saw it. Something profound happened. There it is. The profound experiences like the mundane experiences, just happen, just like anything else. In a moment, for a moment, then time spills on. That the most profound and the most mundane can run parallel in that regard makes them connected somehow. And that’s the wisp I’m trying to bottle.