Out on a dinner with my significant other and we were sitting at a bench outside the restaurant as one among the long queue of hungry couples. She talks to me, and lost me a few seconds after that. I thought about all the work I had to do the next day, and snapped back at reality noticing her eyes glaring at me. She knew I missed the meat of her story, I apologized and repeated the last word I heard, and summoned all my energy to focus on a story she is aching to tell. I had to pull my brain towards the gravity of attention, when the rest of me feels like a heating rocket ready to launch to space.
I stood and asked for the receptionist about our turn, told us we’re 8th on the queue, I patiently said thank you. I took a turn towards the empty park across the restaurant, away from the benches where she sat. I was there, staring at nothing, kicking at tiny pebbles and trying to compute my budget. I was, lost in space yet for another moment until the receptionist shouted “April” and had me springing back to the moment.
We were there for the restaurant, and for dinner, and I had to re-confirm that because for a time I was lost and away someplace else.
When you are a person born with an inclination towards pre-occupation, living in the moment is a struggle. You are always in two places at the same time—one, where your foot stands, and on another, in that where only you reside.