Some mornings, when I reluctantly peel back the covers and haul myself out of bed, it feels like I'm wrestling with more than just tangled sheets. A persistent irritability hangs over me like a stubborn cloud, dampening my mood before the day has even begun. On those days, I lean heavily on a simple mantra: "Don't-be-an-asshole. Don't-be-an-asshole." It's not the most eloquent pep talk, but it's my attempt to nudge myself in the right direction, to shake off the grumpiness and approach the day with a bit more grace.
One morning, in the midst of my internal struggle against the grumpiness, something unexpected happened. As I trudged my way to the gym, dragging my feet and my mood along with me, I encountered the usual cast of characters. And among them was The Regular—a man who seemed to carry the weight of a hundred lifetimes on his stooped shoulders. His face was etched with lines of wisdom and weariness, yet there was a quiet determination in the way he moved, like he was defying gravity with every step.
It was in the locker room, though, that the day took a turn for the extraordinary. As The Regular shuffled past me, heading for the showers, a faint sound caught my ear. I paused, listening intently, and to my surprise, I heard the strains of "Over the Rainbow" drifting through the air. At first, it was soft and hesitant, like a delicate whisper in the wind. Gradually, it grew clearer and more confident, filling the locker room with its unexpected beauty.
I found myself transfixed by the impromptu serenade, transported to a place where worries melted away. As I listened to the haunting melody, a lump formed in my throat and goosebumps prickled my skin.
In that moment, his a Capello of "Over the Rainbow" washed over me. I realized the power of a song sung from the heart could lift the spirits of even the weariest soul. Here was a man whose facade had faced its fair share of trials and tribulations and yet hidden beneath a formidable spirit who found solace and joy in something as ordinary as singing in the shower. It was a humbling reminder that beauty and grace can be found in the most unexpected places, if only we're willing to listen.
As I left the gym that day, my heart felt lighter, buoyed by the unexpected encounter. The irritability that had plagued me earlier had dissipated, replaced by a sense of warmth and gratitude. And as I stepped out into the city streets, I carried with me the memory of the singing man and the valuable lesson he had taught me: that even on a gloomy day, possibly very nearby, is a glimmer of light, if only we have the eyes to see it.