I have never, by any stretch of the imagination, considered myself an optimist. I prefer to think of myself as a pragmatic realist, where the question of whether the glass is half-full or half-empty is more dependent on if it started full or empty than it is on one’s philosophical approach to life. Bad things happen, and you do your best to weather the storms of life with as much dignity as you can, hoping in the process to avoid making the Granby Police Blotter. (Well, more than once a year anyway.)
Lately, however, I find myself starting to look on the bright side– recognizing the proverbial “silver lining” in my daily tribulations. I’m not sure if it represents a fundamental shift in my core philosophy or more of a gradual coming-to-terms with the reality of life, where you start to define good days as ones where not THAT much bad has happened.
To wit:
The stomach bug had worked it’s way around our entire family a few weeks back, but on Mother’s Day morning everyone seemed to be back on their feet and feeling well. We loaded the kids into the car and make the one hour trip down to see my mother to wish her a happy Mother’s Day in person.
It only took about 20 minutes into the trip for our 9 year old to say rather urgently from the back seat “Dad? I think we need to pull over.”
While I scrambled to get the car into a nearby parking lot, my wife hastily attempted to pull my mom’s present from the brightly-colored gift bag in order to pass said bag back to our son. Unfortunately neither of us was in time, and the resulting explosion of breakfast was enough to require an emergency stop at the nearest grocery store to purchase paper towels and cleaning supplies.
And yet even while cleaning the back seat of the car, I realized that it could have been worse. Sure, my son had just vomited all over the inside of my car but – on the bright side – he did just have a double chocolate muffin for breakfast. Instead of smelling bad, the whole car had the aroma of chocolate.
Winning.
Or later in the day when I watched my six year old attempt to figure out skateboarding while I mowed the lawn…. After his 15th failed attempt, I did my fatherly duty and resolved to show him how it was done.
Even as I walked towards the skateboard, I reminded myself that a) I am 44 years old, b) I have never for a single moment shown even one inkling of anything that might be confused for athletic grace and c) I’ve never skateboarded.
But I am his dad, and how hard could skateboarding be? Especially if I was careful.
While it may not be rocket science, it certainly is physics. No sooner did I put both feet on the skateboard when I realized quickly that I was off balance, which resulted in the skateboard going one way while I flew through the air in the other. I landed hard on the pavement in front of my two sons, who stood there with their mouths opening shock.
Embarrassing? Sure. Silver lining? Despite the nasty fall, I managed to avoid both a trip to the emergency room and any broken bones.
Maybe I am becoming one of those annoying people who always look at the bright side of things. Or maybe I have seen enough to learn to appreciate that, even when bad things happen, sometimes you have to appreciate that they could have been worse.
As long as the good days continue to outnumber the bad days, I’m fine either way.
