I went on a search for my slice of life only to realize that that purposeful search was the opposite of the meaning behind a slice of life. A slice of life is not something that I can find, but something that I should notice. A slice of life is a moment that is made available for me.
I was faced with one of those miraculous evenings when the possibilities were all mine. My husband was out of town, so takeout was in my hands for dinner, rather than a meal that I would normally prepare. We were also having a catered lunch at school the next day, so the regular nightly chores were quickly finished, and I found a moment to sit down and ponder what my night would hold. Now this night was accompanied by frigid Michigan weather where temperatures were in the single digits and felt like negative of those low numbers. Despite the warmth of my house and opportunity of a night alone, I ventured out.
The venturing was planned and a part of my weekly routine, a spinning class at my local gym. But it was one that I thought seriously about avoiding this week. Typically, it takes me about 8 minutes to get to the class and I like to cut my arrival close enough that I can get a spot in the classes and warm up, but by no means be early. Tonight, though, I left early thinking of the New Year’s resolution people that crowd the gym at this time of year, only to get stuck in traffic. The cut-through street that I take was completely closed, and the off-ramp was jammed with everyone previously on the cut-through. 30 minutes later, finally merging onto the street that can take me to my gym in about 10 minutes, I know, that there are no bikes left at spinning and the temperature continues to drop, so I am forced back home. Home I went, disappointed that I missed a workout that I thoroughly enjoy and frustrated that I ever left my house in this cold, but with a slice of life and some time to write it.