The Things We Almost Miss

by Joyce Wachau Chege

I often think about my passport, which has been collecting dust in my suitcase for close to three years now, and I feel sorry for it. I dream of and look forward to the day I will take my first flight, to get on that plane headed for Switzerland. I have a beautiful map of the country on my phone, and I marvel at how beautiful it looks, at the names of places that twist my tongue as I try to pronounce them. I long for the day I will sit relaxed in a coffee shop, sipping coffee on a bright, sunny day, overlooking the Swiss Alps.

I dream of the day I will visit and explore the Scottish Highlands and the picturesque Gothic architectures of Edinburgh that have stood the test of time, to run my fingers along the different castle walls, experience the gloomy weather, and learn about the myths and local histories that have endured for as long as anyone can remember.

There’s Maasai Mara here in Kenya, watching the wildebeest migration, taking a hot-air balloon ride, and witnessing a magnificent sunrise from high above the ground. A trip to the coast, bury my toes in the white sand, write my name on that same sand, rest under the palm trees and who knows, catch sight of a mermaid.

But for now, I am where my feet are, enjoying and appreciating the beauty in the small things around me.

Every day I cross the bridge on my way to work. Work that I am really loving. If I am lucky, I get to watch as the train passes by. I stop, take a minute to just marvel. I love how the metallic bridge vibrates under my feet. I smile and take my phone out to record a video. I have stood on this same bridge many a times, and watch the sunrise, a bright yellow one rising from the horizon. At times I count the steps on my way up or down, but usually end up getting distracted.

At times, the clouds look like puffs of cotton candy and if you are not interested or keen, it’s something one assumes as normal but I don’t think it is. When the light strikes the railway lines early in the morning or late in the afternoon, they look like a silvery snail trail, as though a snail had wandered through and left its glistening path behind while gallivanting. I smile again, because at times we tend to overlook the beauty of the everyday life. When it has rained, the derelict railway wagons hold water and you can spot Marabou storks perching to drink the water, as they peck on weeds and insects that stagnate in there. The mundane beauty of life.

With the trains whistling, people brushing against each other as everyone goes about their own business, the city skyline ever so visible, the incessant honking of cars and blaring of motorcycles, with a helicopter or two passing by now and then, taking a moment to just notice and appreciate life might become a bit hard.

At times, we are so enveloped with things going on in our lives that we barely notice the small things around us that make life worth living. I smile at a stranger or two. I walk past the lady who sells bhajias just a few meters from the bridge. I love how we greet each other in the morning and from time to time she urges me to take a bite of the hot bhajias so that I can pass by in the afternoon and buy some. I love when from time to time I pass by the hotel early in the morning and buy some pancakes for my breakfast. And for some reason, all these seemingly insignificant routines make life worth living and they bring me immense joy. Beauty is always everywhere, and in the little things, a burst of gratitude. The universe leaving its fingerprint all over for us to notice. Those few times where our everyday problems seem smaller and defeatable.

Perhaps this is what it means to be present, to realize that life does not always announce its beauty. Sometimes it is hidden in the vibration of a bridge beneath your feet, the whistle of a passing train, a stranger’s smile, a warm bhajia offered in passing, or the first pancake of the morning. We spend so much time waiting for the extraordinary that we forget to notice the ordinary unfolding beautifully in front of us.

Maybe, for now, I am exactly where I need to be. My passport may still be collecting dust, and there are still places I long to see, but there is a whole world quietly happening around me every day. Perhaps the beauty of life is not only found in the places we dream of going, but also in learning to notice the beauty of where we already are.