Circumstances & Dirty Cell Phone Screens

The weather has finally taken a positive turn and we are once again on friendly terms.  I’ve promised to not complain about the inevitable springtime temperature fluctuations and rain showers, and it has agreed to not allow it to rain for more than two days in a row.  Judging by next week’s forecast, I’m fairly certain one of us will soon be breaking our tenuous truce….

I’ve been struggling a bit as of late:  I’ve been busy, exhausted, overwrought, with everything being just too too.  Some times are just like that, really.  In the last few days, however, I feel like I’m finally returning to normal stasis;  I have time to breathe and think and live outside of the chaos that has been my life for the last several weeks.  In a moment of clarity and self-care, I decided that I am going to do my best to walk instead of ride the bus from where I’m required to park to my office and back again each day.

It’s a bit of a meander across the campus, with parts that are alternately very historic, stately, and regal and then altogether typical to academia;  other parts are simply bucolic.  There is a piece early in the walk that takes me over the main street.  There is nothing remarkable about this part of the walk, not in the least.  I cross a cement overpass over a busy road;  athletic fields with chain link fences line one side and boxy, brick dorms greet me on the other.  But as I came across the bridge the other morning, I was struck by the beauty of spring in all her finery on one side of the street below:  trees in vibrant bloom, a little creek glistening in the sunlight, looking clear, clean and refreshing.  I stopped for a moment and took it in, deciding to snap a photo as I’m apt.  I pulled out my phone and adjusted my position to try to capture it all as best I could.

But I couldn’t see the screen:  between the bright sunshine and my sunglasses, all I saw was a black screen.

I wanted the photo to remind myself of how beautiful life can be, how breathtaking some moment just are.  I wanted to share it with my friends and family, who would appreciate it simply for what it was.  But because of circumstances, all I could see in that moment was a dark and dirty screen.  But I clicked the button anyway and hoped for the best.  And there it was.

Imagine that.


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