I spent almost eight hours today in a five by five room with no windows and no natural light, on the phone with stores all over Southern California, trying to avert a crisis that was going to happen regardless of what I did).
The crisis involved beanies, scarves, and gloves — fifty of each. Needing to be embroidered by tomorrow. For people who live in Los Angeles. Los Angeles, where we all just lost our minds because it was in the sixties and rained for one day.
So thankfully, I was able to realize that it was just beanies and scarves and gloves, and despite the inconvenience of not being able to do the rest of my job, it was kind of nice to have post-its all over the place, trying to track down these items. Ten beanies there, but only two gloves. All of the scarves coming from five stores. Arranging overnight shipping, getting the details all just right.
Problem-solving. I like a good problem if I know how to fix it. I don’t mind the grunt work involved one bit.
That said, eight hours is a long time. Finally, it was time to leave. The crisis will happen. Or not, I don’t know. At some point the client just responded “Ok stop” and then never said another word.
So, letting it go, I gathered up everything and rode in the elevator to the fifth floor of the parking structure.
And then.
The elevator doors slid open to reveal a sky was brushed with pink and lavender. The sun was dipping behind a smear of orange clouds in the west. Running down the center of the lot toward the drains was rain water, tinged with a silvery-pink glow, like a love potion. Clouds huddled around the mountain range in the south, a sleepy fox curled around itself. And toward the west, a pure white peak rose behind the others: fresh snow, from all the rain we’ve had.
The slick pavement reflected back the warm rosy hue on everything: the cars, the elevator, my shoes. I only stood there for a moment, knowing I had to relieve C and collect V, but I was stunned into a hushed silence. All the stress over the beanies and scarves and not so grateful person in crisis drained right out of me.
The last time I saw a sky that beautiful was in Japan.
And even tonight, with a kid who won’t sleep and tomorrow’s stress hovering around the edges of my thoughts, remembering that liquid pink glow just brings it all down, like a salve.
small life, slow life 