He leapt from the step-stool to a high counter by the microwave, and from there, onto the refrigerator.
Then he opened a cabinet and squeezed inside.
Once inside the cabinet, he found the container, three cabinets over, and started pushing.
A minute later, the container fell to the floor, breaking open, scattering cat treats across the kitchen floor.
A second later, he and his co-conspirator began eating.
I wasn’t happy about the having to clean up the mess, nor was a pleased that it happened while I was teaching a student how to identify quadrilaterals, but it was also funny, clever, and memorable.
That is the essence of optimism.
Ignore the negative. Embrace the positive.
Yes, I’m still finding the occasional cat treat more than two days later, and yes, the 15 minutes required to clean up the mess could’ve been much better spent, but those cats made me laugh, too, and it’s a moment I may never forget.
Especially after writing this.
The act of writing tends to cement moments in your brain. It might be one of the reasons why I tend to remember my past better than most. I’ve written every day of my life since I was 17 years old, and I’ve been writing this blog every day – without missing a single day – since the fall of 2005.
When I write about little moments like these, they find a way of lodging themselves in my mind forever more.
That is a glorious thing. Being able to remember your past with breadth and specificity makes your entire life feel longer, brighter, and more connected to your present.
I lose far fewer days thanks to my commitment to writing. The days, weeks, months, and even years that slip by, forgotten by so many, are often remembered with great clarity by me.
So optimism. I endorse it.
And writing. I recommend it.
