sol.ace_r

I try to recall a day when nothing happened.
More precisely, a day with nothing to recall.
A day that passed without a single memorable scene, without words worth holding onto and chewing over.
We tidy up such days easily.
“It was just an ordinary day.”
Inside that sentence live both a casual dismissal and a quiet sense of relief.

Saying that nothing happened is, in fact, a strange thing to say.
There are hardly any days when nothing happens.
It’s just that nothing happened that felt worth recording.

You wake up in the morning, draw the curtains with a body not fully awake yet, and check a sky that isn’t much different from yesterday’s.
The fact that it isn’t raining, that the wind isn’t as cold as expected, that your body hurts a little less than it did yesterday.
All of these things are what allow the day to begin.
But we don’t think of them as “conditions.”
We treat them like default settings.

That’s why the word “taken for granted” is so comfortable.
You don’t have to explain it, you don’t have to be grateful for it, you don’t have to hold onto it.

Just as we don’t feel grateful every time we breathe, we don’t consciously recognize the state of being alive.
When this state continues for a long time, we mistake it for ability.
We tell ourselves we’re holding up well, that we’re strong enough for things like this.

But in truth, we’ve simply not collapsed yet.
Today just hasn’t ended yet.

Things taken for granted are always inconspicuous.
They don’t demand anything, and they don’t try to prove themselves.
So we forget them easily.
Or rather, it might be more accurate to say we stop being aware of them.
A state where it’s okay not to be aware—that’s exactly what “taken for granted” means.

It’s the same with people.
Someone who contacts you around the same time every day, someone who listens to your story without saying much, someone who stays by your side without needing to be asked.

Their presence slowly becomes background instead of noise.
It’s not that gratitude disappears.
You just stop feeling the need to express it.
Because they seem like they’ll always be there, because it feels like it’s okay to be a little careless.
You can’t really call that feeling bad—but it is a very safe illusion.

Then one day, that sense of “of course” slips.
Replies come later than usual, tones change, silence appears without explanation.
Only then do we grope around inside our hearts.
Where did things go wrong? What words did we miss?
Maybe nothing actually went wrong—maybe we’re just belatedly feeling the weight of what we took for granted.

What’s taken for granted hurts more when it wavers than when it disappears.
The moment you notice that it’s “different from before,” before it’s completely gone.
That’s when you realize just how many things you’ve been leaning on all along.

A glass of water, a warm room, a body that came home today without any accidents.
We rarely imagine that all of this could be a desperate wish for someone else.
Because we’re in a state where we don’t have to imagine it.
That sense of stability is close to a blessing—but at the same time, it dulls our senses.

So sometimes, we have to stop on purpose.
In front of the fact that the day ended safely.

Nothing big happened today, there was no great achievement, and we didn’t save anyone dramatically—but we still lived through the day.
Acknowledging that this alone was enough is harder than it sounds.
Because we’ve been taught to do better, to be more special.

But most of life is made up of days that aren’t special.
And the fact that those days continue without collapsing is, in itself, a big deal.

What we take for granted is actually fragile.
It endures even without our attention, but there’s no guarantee it will last forever.
We can’t live offering thanks every single moment, but sometimes, at least in our hearts, I want us to acknowledge it.

Let’s not take what’s taken for granted too lightly.
That’s a kind of courtesy toward life, and an attitude toward ourselves.

Let’s not pass by a day where nothing happened as if it were nothing.
Because it’s only because that day existed that the word “tomorrow” is still here.