Broken Elevators
& Sixth Floor Views 🌁
We currently reside on the sixth level of a charming Victorian structure in San Francisco, California. While lately, I find myself dreaming of the near future where we live in the suburbs and have space, for most of our tenure, I’ve loved this apartment. Our expansive windows overlook the Marina, offering a sweeping vista that extends from the Golden Gate Bridge to Alcatraz and beyond. Many mornings, when I wake up, I catch the sunrise hitting the hills of Tiburon and fanning across the bay, breaking through the neatly aligned streets off Polk.
In moments like these, I think, wow, I would have killed for this morning five years ago.
But today is not one of those days.
Today, the elevator is broken.
In fact, it was broken yesterday, too.
And Wednesday.
And as I find myself in the increasingly burdensome state of pregnancy, those twelve flights of stairs I’m forced to scale to reach my apartment have truly become the bane of my existence.
Every time I leave our unit, I can't help but anticipate the challenging return. Mentally, I prepare myself for the breathless climb that awaits me. And with an aging dog who needs frequent bathroom breaks [and was sick all week], I'm leaving far more frequently than I'd prefer [every 90 minutes, to be exact].
With each climb, I fixate on the prospect of a future broken elevator scenario, one where I'm holding my future baby, and panic at the need to overcome those 100 feet of gravitational resistance just to reach our front door.
With each step, I search for more reasons to justify my irritation, and it turns out it’s quite easy to find them.
If You Look for Problems, Expect to Find Them.
In the past week, I've unearthed a series of additional imperfections with our unit. As is often the case with these ancient buildings, the fridge is smaller than a typical fridge. Far too small. I can't help but wonder how I'll manage when the time comes to store breast milk. Most things are quite petite in size actually, owing to the petite frames from 100 years ago. What's worse, our wafer-thin walls have me fretting over the potential inconvenience of a crying baby disturbing the peaceful lives of our next-door neighbors.
And what if our lovely view through those windows becomes a potential hazard?
We are, after all, on the sixth floor.
Every day, I uncover more flaws with the home I once adored. Every day, our space seems a little less lovely. Some days, I've even stopped admiring the view.
But isn't that how it always goes?
At first, you get something you really love. Something you've wanted for so long. You’re thrilled, you can’t believe your luck. You promise to never want for more.
But over time, you acclimate to the splendor of your home, your partner's kindness, and your child's infectious laughter. In this phase, you start discerning imperfections, honing in on areas where your circumstances could use some fine-tuning. You become fixated on these subtle upgrades, imagining how they could considerably enhance the overall quality of your life.
If only he took out the trash without asking…
If only the kids would go to bed on time…
If only my boss would recognize my hard work more…
If only our house had a guest room…
In doing this, we often neglect to consider how things could take a turn for the worse, and we frequently fail to recognize the sheer luck we possess in having what we currently do.
Appreciating What We Have
Sometimes, we need a reminder.
The other day, my phone went into full-on panic mode, sounding off with those ominous mass text messages regarding an impending natural catastrophe.
🚨EMERGENCY ALERT 🚨 It read.
Earthquake detected.
Drop, cover, hold on.
Protect yourself.
This was my first time receiving such a message. And with such short notice, what could I actually do? Momentarily, I froze.
But no earthquake followed.
The apartment remained still.
Later, I learned there was an earthquake, but at a considerable distance from our location. It was only a 4.1 magnitude — a baby earthquake on the California spectrum. But we found ourselves on the periphery of the region that received those alert messages. The alert was a precautionary measure.
But what a great reminder that was. I found myself thinking…
What if it hadn’t been a precaution?
What if, following that text, we were victims of a natural disaster?
What if, in those moments, we became one of the many who experience great suffering worldwide - war, illness, and unexpected loss - on any given day?
In such a grim alternative reality, I would have longed for the sense of security I had taken for granted the day before.
Becoming accustomed to our circumstances is part of being human. But in allowing the world around you become familiar, it's so easy to start taking it for granted, to let minor hardships of everyday life blind us to the beauty of of it. Small marital fights can overshadow our partner’s incredible qualities. Little frustrations with our bosses can eclipse the fact that they are typically thoughtful and appreciative of our work.
Which is why as we age, it becomes so important in life to remind ourselves that nothing lasts indefinitely, good or bad, and how imperative it is to cherish what we have while it's within our reach.
Part of fully appreciating this is recognizing that by choosing these people and aspects of our lives - our homes, our partners, our jobs, to have children or not - we are intentionally selecting certain hurdles over others. Those imperfections are part of the whole - what makes them wonderful. And in making our choices, we agree to face the occasional repair, have the occasional fights, surmount the temporary career frustrations, and see our children through sleepless nights.
Everything, and everyone, has a broken elevator day from time to time.
Friction makes life exciting.
It's time to embrace those frustrations.
Because once you surmount those 12 flights of stairs, once that problem is behind you, damn, what a beautiful view.
Sharing is Caring. 💌
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I will return to this when I need to remember to have perspective.