Today I did nothing productive.
Today, I did nothing of value to anyone. I was not helpful to anyone. I did not clean anything or fix anything or make anything. I did not go to work. I did not do anything impressive or important.
I slept in far longer than I would have done on a day that I was going to use wisely. I took far longer to go about my morning routine, taking my time over things that are normally not worth the time or energy to linger on.
Today was not a day than anybody will remember me for. Today will probably be glossed over in my biography.
Today is one of those days that makes life worth living.
Today was a day when I didn’t have to worry about impressing anyone. I didn’t let myself think about being productive or constructive or valuable to society. I forgot about the rest of the world for one little day.
Today I just experienced being me.
Today I walked on the grass.
I went out in the sunshine and I strolled from my flat into the park nearby and when I got there I took off my shoes and I walked on the grass.
I wore shorts, and I forced myself not to care about whether or not anyone thought my legs were uneven or pale or prickly. I felt the warmth of the sun on my knees and the cool of the breeze. I felt the tickle of the grass that grew longer than my ankle brushing against me.
I did nothing but wander around.
I breathed in the fresh air and I soaked in the sounds and the smells of the world around me.
And that was enough for today.
Today I did not need to be productive. In the grand scheme of things, there was nothing going on in my life that was so pressing it could not wait one measly day. Today, I did not have to worry about spending every waking moment focused on something bigger than myself.
Today, myself was big enough. Today, the only thing I worried about was me.
Days like these are the ones that matter most, the ones that you must experience to the very fullest and savour for as long as you can. These are the days that exist purely so that you can enjoy them and become pointless if you don’t.
Without these days, I may as well not exist. If I spent my every last day the way I spend most of them, it would not be worth me getting out of bed each morning.
Maybe no one else will remember that you lived this day. But as long as you live it, it makes all the other days that little bit easier.
Author Bio – Kirstie Summers is journalist whose day job takes her to all the most interesting places and events in South London. She also freelances for a number of sites and publications, from gaming and literature reviews to creative fiction. She lives in London and spends as much of her free time as possible making the most of being in such a diverse city. She keeps one day a week to herself to swim, relax and keep the stress of the world at bay.