It was a nice day, there was nothing special about that particular day and it could be easily lost among other same “nice” days. Days always can be characterized somehow but there are days that are just nice, neither bad or good, just nice. I find these days the worst ones, as they can be easily forgotten, and just disappear in the chain of same days with no story…but that day was special as despite that it was nice it was remarkable enough to be recorded. Not every day has such an honour to be recorded, especially if it’s just a nice day, so here it goes..
It was a nice day, like every other day, it started rather early making the town wake up, people weren’t really happy to start a new day that early but the bright warm sun already shining above that early in the morning did its job, making sleepy faces smile to welcome the new day. Everything was going as it should, people were getting up, preparing and leaving to their work, dreaming about the weekend to actually enjoy this nice weather.
So what actually made this day remarkable enough?
It was the first day when Mr. Clarke overslept.He woke up half an hour later and was that shocked with this fact so spend another 15 minutes just thinking how could that happen. When he finally realized that the time keeps going and he’s still in bed and now there’s no chance to be at work in time, he rushed out of his bed to the window to watch the last morning bus leaving. He spent another few minutes near the window looking to the town shining in the morning sun realizing that he had never seen this view before. How often we look at something but never actually see.
It was so not typical of him to be late so now he was puzzled what he was to do during the day. He was one of the most responsible people ever and usually had a strict schedule for the whole day, week and even year. He was spending at least an hour in the evening planning the next day, and now he just couldn’t accept the fact that he can’t follow the plan. There was no need to hurry anywhere, no need even to change his pyjamas, he could spend the whole day on his own, in any way he would like. But the problem was that he wanted to spend it like all the days before and now facing the problem of total freedom he felt lost in nowhere, trying to find at least some duties he could do. And there was nothing left to do, everything was planned for weeks ahead and there was no way to accomplish the future task without ruining the whole system.
So here he was, free but trapped…He couldn’t remember the last day when he had no plan, in his childhood he was taught to make plans for everything, every single small thing, some of his plans (actually most of them) may seem ridiculous and meaningless, but that was his way of living and he couldn’t imagine any other one.
He was standing near the window thinking about possible ways to solve the problem, there was no need to call to work, he knew that nobody would notice his absence. He was confused about this day, as there was no certainty about the future.
Mr. Clarke wasn’t a spontaneous person. At all. He knew exactly as much as he should, did exactly what he should, he wasn’t curious about anything apart his own life. He cared about others but only as much as it was needed to be known as a good person, it seemed like he had no feelings or thoughts on his own, just a small engine in his brain telling him how it “must” be. He’d never tried to change it, why to change as he’s doing everything “right”?
It was getting hotter and standing near the window was becoming less and less pleasant and just when Mr. Clarke decided to leave this “useless” occupation and at least go and have a breakfast he noticed a strange thing in that peaceful scene outside. There was a small lorry parked right across the street. There was nothing special about that lorry, a small white one usually used to deliver bread or flowers, but this one had no signs on its sides, and the only remarkable thing about it was its owner, running around it trying to open the back door that apparently had stuck.
How do we usually imagine the lorry drivers? An ordinary man in his 40s, smoking wearing a funny cap and depending on the product he’s delivering: either swearing or smiling. But this one.. was a woman, around 25 years old, with bright fair hair in a pony tail reaching her shoulders, in the old scotch shirt and dark jeans. She was running around, trying to find a way to open the back door, it seemed like not the first time she faced that problem as her actions seemed well-organized, that made Mr. Clarke think that she was actually the owner of that truck. As a “right” person he couldn’t watch a girl struggling alone and hurried up to the lorry.
That made me wonder when it happened, when did I lose this kind of imagination and became more serious and rational? Sure, I’m not an adult yet, at least that can be easily proved by just looking at my recent actions, but kids…their ability to see life differently…is it possible to bring it back? To teach myself to think this way?..Actually, it’s not thinking in one particular unique way, it’s thinking without borders, as children simply don’t have them formed yet.
Messy Notes by Nerdy Penguin 
