Work, work, work. Not that I don’t count the great blessing of having work, for one, and being able to work, for another. But being so wound up, winding down on a vacation isn’t automatic. From the airplane reading a Where magazine I get anxiety attacks preparing what to do, where to go and what to buy – on limited time and with not a bottomless pocket of funds. Planning becomes crucial. Therefore, enjoying becomes work, too.
I’m in the middle of my two-week break walking and thinking... Gotta, gotta, gotta... oh no, do I catch the stores on Madison or 5th? Six days to go... oh my, oh my... Feeling like I won a sprint race, I go into the store and I’m in leather heaven. Giving the receipt for the purchase the sales lady declares, "Have a nice day. What I’d give up to have a taste of that beautiful sunshine!" I say, "Yes it is a beautiful day isn’t it?" A bit embarrassed that I couldn’t wait to get into the store and she wanted to be out. "A day and a half indeed it is..." Elise said. Suddenly I was aware of the name on her tag.
"A day and a half" is how inhabitants of this part of America describe a beautiful day that gives you much more than what 10 lousy days could otherwise offer. I wasn’t so aware of the value of that day until the sales lady Elise pointed me to it. I also never knew how to best describe the day that does give you much more than you bargained for. I wondered whether that explained why people in countries with a winter season and unbearably hot or cold temperatures tend to appreciate it more – the day just perfect for skating in the park, eating al fresco, having a picnic on the grass or walking on the street whistling the song in their minds. Ordinary activities to most of us.
Back in the Philippines, where we take most days of half the year of sunshine and tolerably warm weather for granted, we can have picnics, bask under the sun and walk and skate and run and dance out in the open air all we can – because we can. And because we most of the time can, we become regrettably unaware of the privilege.
I figure you get 50 percent more on the day only if you’re aware of what you otherwise couldn’t do. And then you make the most of what you have. Be it extreme outdoor sports or simply breathing in, smiling and having the wind blow on your face – you just do more of it – and realize not all days are going to be like this one.
I scampered to look for the article I read a year ago but couldn’t find it. It was written by an active American journalist diagnosed with cancer. She was the superwoman who could juggle full time work with full time family life. At 45, she was too young to have to fight for her life while getting ready to go. The chemotherapy was giving her less and less days of ability. There were days she could hardly hold up a cup of coffee. Then there were days when her body seemed to function so normally she’d actually pretend she was fine. She described a day with her husband and her four children during one of those times when she drove the kids to school then picked them up half a day early, drove around and in the park watching her kids playing, thought, "This is the day I would’ve wanted to have more of." The prognosis was grim and it didn’t look like she’d have more of those kinds of days. She wasn’t able to complete her journal. But that day with her kids became her template through the next and last two years she had. As she wrote of her days since the cancer diagnosis – all through her medication until her eventual death – "nothing is more important than today."
Like having an heirloom painting appraised by an art connoisseur and suddenly being made aware of its priceless value I sit and look back to remember... We were 15 years old. My best friends in high school Mylene and Maia and I decided we were going "bold" for the day. We wore strapless floor-length sarongs and walked along a busy main street on the way to having our hair and nails done in a parlor. We exchanged boy-crush stories and later crashed in a friend’s house to "practice our moves" on the makeshift dance floor until dinnertime... I remember having decided. One day, even before finishing college, I mustered the guts to apply as a newscaster in a broadcast network. I was so nervous I had to get hold of anything to hold on to. It happened to be a dictionary. Ding Gagelonia, then Desk Editor, had since never forgotten this teenager who he thought was "clumsily trying to make an impression but was too cute to take seriously." I think "cute" meant more like ridiculous. I don’t remember the interview with Jess Matubis all that clearly but I recall he had this impish smile when he said I was hired. I went out the door then out the lobby. Vivid in my mind was how bright the day suddenly seemed to be. I giggled within and thought that life was so good... Yes, that day, too, when the whole family was in El Nido in Palawan. We were all so excited we woke up unnaturally early and saw each other by the pool overlooking the sea. The sunshine was mild and perky, the wind just enough to call attention to rustling leaves of surrounding foliage. Nobody said it aloud but everyone in the family knew... That, definitely, was a day and a half. I should start another one of my leather-bound notebooks, retrieve and archive the memories so I am reminded of their significance.
Yes, it is unfortunate we are often driven to realize worth only when we are confronted by either the threat or inevitability of loss. We’ve all had many of those days and we will have many more still. It’s in knowing the value that is the source of the pleasure. While we all have learned the value of money, we educate ourselves on the worth of jewelry and art, we expose ourselves to the appreciation of good food, good clothing, good grades – could we not learn to see and savor the good day?
I now wonder. How many days left am I going to have? Certainly not all will be even worth half of 24 hours for, as the need arises, we are often taken away from what truly makes a day. The new deathbed quote I now aspire to leave is "Even as I walk in the valley of the shadow of death... I feel no regret. I had lived a life and a half...."
(E-mail me at korina_abs@yahoo.com)