The Restaurant

You’re sitting in a crowded restaurant off the main boulevard on a Saturday night. Can you feel the hard wood of the chair under your butt? Do you smell fragrant aromatics wafting out of the pass from the kitchen, telling you stories of a delicious meal? Can you hear the multitude of overlapping voices and dancing conversations in the dining room? Do you see your date across from you, her gentle eyes looking into yours, lips parting into a radiant smile? What do you taste? Did the cook sauté your dish long enough, did the chilis he used have enough bite to make your nose run, is it as delicious as you hoped?

Take in the scene. Look around you. Look at all the lives surrounding yours, intermingling, sharing the warm glow of the overhead lights. How many memories are collectively sitting in this room? What could you learn if you had a chance to speak to every single one of them and listen to their stories. Would you hear about fortuitous success in business? Are there a few heartbreaks abound? Does somebody have a medal at home with their name on it, boasting of their athletic prowess? What are the odds that your favorite show is on the back of the mind of the man sitting at the table next to you. Contained within the brick and glass of this trendy restaurant is humanity, millions of hours of collective lives lived, nights slept, families grown, meals shared.

If only there was a way to see them all, to kick your feet up on the ottoman and press play. If only there was a way to see everything, if only there was more time. That’s the cruel beauty of life. There is never enough time, always more to see, always more to do. Live in every present moment, feel everything you can, love whenever you can, smile at every opportunity. You'll never know when it's your last trip to the restaurant.