Even when flying alone for work, I arrive way too early at airports. I even check the weight of my carry-on. Why? rules always seem to apply to me. Some would say I’m unlucky, and I don’t mind. Because I’m lucky in love.
I don’t play the lottery or gamble. Yes, in the back of my mind the fact that I’m almost as likely to win by not playing than playing probably sends the wrong vibes on the roulette table. Still, I play for fun when the situation calls for it, but never expect to win. Yet, I don’t mind. I’m lucky in love.
Being street smarts doesn’t apply to me. If there’s a long line to be made, I stand in the back and wait. I don’t have the charm or agency to be able to skip it. Again, don’t mind. I’m lucky in love.
I wasn’t always lucky in love. For a long time I thought love was hard work. It isn’t. Marriage and relationships are hard work. But loving and being loved should be effortless. You need to be yourself and love the other person as they are. Then work hard on everything around it. For 11 years I’ve been lucky in love with Ana. And it’s all the luck I need.
I once flew just over our Miami apartment when coming back of a work trip, and instagrammed a photo with the caption:
Home is where Ana is.
I was particularly proud of that one. Flash forward a decade, and the caption should now read:
Home is where Ana, Robie and Bettina are.
While true, it’s a bit more complex. I’d assume that Ana mostly needs our kids and myself to be present under the same roof. But Robie and Bettina also have preferences, and they’re not necessarily the same as mine.
Watching communities disappear around some internet famous people I’ve followed for a long time, makes me wonder how moving across countries — something I’ve done multiple times in the past — will play in the future with my family. By choice or not.
Cold showers are terrible. Scratch that, cold showers are an abomination. Why did we leave our comfortable urban environment for these infra-human conditions? Experiencing nature my freezing behind.
I may be losing the feeling of my arms, because it’s suddenly not so bad. More like the second drill at the dentist — when the numbness hides the pain and you’re kinda happy it’s closer to the end.
There’s a certain feeling of accomplishment when you go all in. A victory of mind over cold liquid matter. I’ve also managed to conceal my high-pitch noises enough to make them sound like coughs. Victory is mine.
I twist and turn. No more hiding. I’ve embraced my environment and are now free. Let water be water, its temperature has transcended meaning.
I am one with nature. I’ve saved water, electricity and improved my health. This is the way to treat the temple of the body.
But I’m sure as hell not showering tomorrow morning.