Today felt like a malaise Monday. It rained in the South Bay, unusually cold and dreary for May, and there was a post Mother’s Day hangover in the air. But there were quiet moments I enjoyed: sitting on the floor with my daughter, having one of our “conversations,” watching the green leaves on the tree rustling in the wind outside. The sun eventually poked its way through the gloom. I got a good workout in, despite being tired from yesterday.

It’s not the first time I’ve told myself, “these are the good old days. These are the days I’ll look back on fondly, and wish I can return to when I’m old and worn down.” It can be difficult sometimes, but I try to appreciate and be grateful for the simple things on ordinary days. Appreciate getting a good lift in—one day I won’t be strong. Enjoy sitting on the floor talking with my daughter—one day she will be grown, and I’ll remember how cute and innocent she was as a baby.

All of this is living. Sure I strive for adventure, seek it out regularly. We travel and learn about the world and its inhabitants. I’d like to build as much of that into my life as I can, because my heart yearns for it. But I also try to recognize the real living, the true living that occurs on a daily basis. Struggling for that last set in a workout. Feeling good about trying your best in all you did that day. And being present with your family.

We can all do these things, and we all do… it’s our shared experience as humans. Plebeians of Ancient Rome worked through malaise Monday’s. Royals in 1600’s Europe dealt with them. It is the human condition. And I’m pretty certain, at the end of my life, whenever that may come, I’ll look back on a malaise Monday and wish I could return to it, for just five minutes, one more time. For living is the greatest gift, not to be squandered.