Appreciation

He lives in an apartment, which from the outside may look like a uniform grey block of uniformity. But he doesn’t spend a lot of time looking at the outside of the block, so it has never bothered him really.

Currently, he is alone. Well, except for the rabbit anyway. He loves that rabbit, but just like children it needs taking care of and to be taught the rudiments of good behaviour. At least the children eventually stopping peeing on the floor, but he is not so sure the rabbit will ever learn.

His wife is shopping and his children are with their grandparents, so he has a bit of time to himself. But, as ever, he has too many things which he would like to be doing with his time. Will he ever learn? He is currently spending part of his, supposed, relaxation time chasing that rabbit around the living room. It’s frustrating but it could be worse, he reminds himself.

It is a beautiful sunny day outside and he has a small balcony which he enjoys spending his time sitting and reading on. To most people’s eyes it would seem tiny. But he loves it for what it is, his little oasis. Green plants are waiting for their real spring colours to release themselves.

His neighbourhood is surprisingly quiet, considering how many people must live in that area. He loves to sit listening to the birds singing in the morning and catches the occasional sight of a rabbit, or even more rarely a hedgehog. Only just down the road from his home you can even see wild pheasants.

All in all he is content, but often doesn’t feel it until he stops and thinks about it. He asks himself all the time why people don’t stop and be grateful more often. But it is the way of the world, he supposes.

He will get a visit form his family soon. The kids will be back for an hour and he will enjoy hearing their voices fro a while again. But when they go he knows that he will gratefully accept the chance to spend time with his wife, once she also returns. He knows he is lucky and should thank his lucky stars every day that this woman walked into his life, and still puts up with him.

The breeze is blowing now and he can see the gentle movement of those plants on his balcony. The irresistible pull of his books is calling to him and distracting him from his task. He decides that it is perhaps the sign to put down his pen, for now. He is present, he is content, he has enough.

Words © Neil Hayes and neilhayeswrites

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