The intruding spring

Henry woke up when a bed spring penetrated his mattress and scratched his knee calf. The sting was enough to make him jump out of bed. Then, he had to get up.

He wasn’t a morning person. Not everybody is. Despite the fact that he was well aware of the French saying that the world belongs to those who get up early (“le monde appartient à ceux qui se lèvent tôt”); he was more of a supporter of the Italian one that it is sweet to do nothing (“dolce far niente”).

This was one of those mornings when he’d rather stay in bed. Henry was the type of person who upon knowing that he had a list of things to do, could not find the urge to do any of them. Instead, he would find other things to do, making his list grow longer.

He was the person who would always find something to do. His problem wasn’t not having something to do, but rather never having enough time to do it. Sometimes even desire.

But today it was different. The intruding spring made him realise that sometimes it is better to get up early because you enjoy more of the day, particularly on mornings illuminated by sunlight. Plus, you often have the chance to spend more time with the people you love.

So despite the inappropriate wake-up call, the day would develop much better and by nightfall Henry would be glad he was pushed out of bed so early.

There is always a more positive side to everything; if you’re open-hearted enough to see it.

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The things that matter

@MCD

The day she met him she had found a penny on the way to the store outside of which they were to bump into each other. She thought it was good luck and gave it to him for their three-month anniversary. She told him it might be silly, but she enjoyed looking out for all the small details that for her made a difference. She kept souvenirs and memories of their outings, even dried-up flowers he gave her, in a small box in her nightstand. She felt they granted a special energy to their relationship and strengthened their bond.

He didn’t really pay attention to the penny and it got lost. Or he might have even spent it somewhere; he didn’t remember. He wasn’t the type of person that gave attention to material goods. He felt people and the time spent with them were more important. He tried to offer her as much of his free time as he could. And he tried to please her as much as possible.

But something always seemed to go wrong.

On the day they moved-in together, she found a penny outside his door gate. She gave it to him as a token that it would bring them luck in their new endeavor and in sharing their lives. She found it a few days later still on the TV table where he had left it. She smiled, thinking that he valued it too much to spend or lose. But a few days later, the penny disappeared. And so did her optimism.

He wasn’t too much of an organiser, often leaving things lying around the house for days, even scattered between tables and drawers. He complained lack of time was the perpetrator. And he could not understand why she made such a fuss over insignificant stuff.

She felt he didn’t care enough to cherish the things she brought him.

He felt she was becoming too quirky, too hard to satisfy.

She was about to leave in tears, when he walked into the bedroom, opened the top closet door and brought down a rectangular silver frame. He handed it to her and said, “I pay attention to the things that matter; and that means having you. That’s all I need. That’s all I want”.

He had framed the note where she first wrote to him that she loved him.  She had given it to him the night of the day she gave him that first penny.

Every story has two sides, you just have to have a mind that is open enough to see them both.