happy little accidents

I drove to Beverly Hills to my friend’s place. We had plans to carpool to the Getty for our monthly afternoon of sketching. “Hi, I’m here!” I was running late and I knew our ticket window to head in was closing. Already figuratively out of breath from rushing over, I felt my face turn red when she kindly reminded me that our tickets were for tomorrow.

Last month at the Getty.

I took my consequential embarrassment as a cue from the universe to slow down. I’d started to feel so much pressure heading into my 36th birthday, checking off now seemingly arbitrary boxes and scrutinizing what was left on my lists of to-dos without taking the time to breathe. I took my sketchbook and headed to a local cafe to sketch outside in between bites.

Enjoying some sunshine.

I sat under an umbrella as the sun beamed a very welcome warmth. A soft breeze rattled leaves in the trees. Birds chirped and skipped alongside my table. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend that this pandemic was over.

A jazzy version of “You Are My Sunshine” played over the loudspeaker. I’d always loved this song, and every time it plays, I’m reminded of my grandma singing it to me, holding me close to her while she combed through my hair.

Capturing the memory of a happy little accident.

Author: Marz

⪻ she | siya ⪼
I am a 1.5 generation Filipino-Chinese American immigrant, born in Makati and raised in Southern California. I write, paint, cook, express. Professionally, I am with a national nonprofit organization working on public health, behavioral health, and health justice issues. My background is in education, research, medicine, and health policy and law. Casually, I am a cat lady.
 Based in Los Angeles, California.

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