He awakened from another restless night and as he had done for the past 20 years, he was going through his morning routine before leaving for work.

His mind was mired with obligation.

The job paid the bills and now he had to get a new air conditioner for the upcoming summer season.

After work, stop at the grocery store for a few things.

Go home and start dinner before his wife returns from her place of employment.

Ask his son and daughter if they finished their homework before they play their video games.

And the beat goes on.

On this particular day, he felt hollow, as if there was nothing but air inside his entire being. It had not been a sudden decline about being the caretaker of the kingdom of house and family.

For years, the business of life had been wearing him down.

His legs were struggling to walk in the same footprints he takes every day to do what he has to do to meet his responsibilities.

Quite frankly, he was bored with it all. He wondered if his heart was still beating, why his mind was fixed to the tasks on the “to do” list clipped to the refrigerator door.

He got in his car and took a deep breath, feeling nothing. He was empty and he knew it.

Something made him steer next to the newspaper box at the end of his driveway. The usual dismal headlines were on the front page. “Floods destroy homes.” “Woman arrested for hit and run death.” But then something caught his eye near the bottom of the page. It was a quote from the poet, Oscar Wilde.

“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people just exist.”

A sudden wave of adrenalin came from somewhere. He drove back up the driveway and called his work number. “I won’t be coming in today. Not feeling up to it.”

That’s right, he thought. This will be my day, not theirs.

Then, with a big smile, he didn’t just begin his day, he began his life. First, he changed into sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and sneakers.

He bounced down the front steps on his way for a walk to nowhere. He stopped at the end of the street, looked up into the sky and took a huge breath of the cool spring fresh air that rushed into his lungs and brought tears to his eyes.

It felt good, as if God had just given him CPR to kick start his heart again that had been dead for far too long.

After circling his block, he returned home. To the kitchen he went to make himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, his favorite childhood food.

He sat down on the back deck and his first bite triggered a memory when he was 11 and he had come home from fishing at the pond, and mom had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich waiting for him. He took another bite and thought for the first time in weeks that he could enjoy his food without the next task on the to do list gnawing away at his stomach when he ate at the dinner table.

A robin redbreast danced into his eyes from the backyard. He watched it closely as if he had never seen one before.

It danced a few more steps and he knew the robin was listening for worms moving under the earth.

He finished his sandwich, put on his earbuds and paired them with a wonderful song list of classical music. He sat back and listened to every instrument play a concert just for him.

When the performance was done, he listened again, but this time to the sound of silence and he fell asleep to the absence of all his aches and pains.

He spent the late afternoon reading a book of inspirational quotes he had gotten at a garage sale last summer. One quote in particular he read three times.

“You have to love life to live life, and you have to live life to love life.”

Then a new thought crossed his mind. From the basement he brought up a bread machine that had never come out of the box. He had purchased the recipe ingredients a month ago, but had never found the time to use them. In about forty minutes, the whole house smelled like baking bread.

A surge of excitement had him smiling again. From this day forward, he was going to change his attitude about everything.

“I never asked to be born, to be given a life to live, but here I am,” he said out loud. “Why waste the gift of my life just existing until I die?”

He wrote a new to do list, not one of tasks, but one he titled, “To Live.”

Read good books.

Walk the wooded trails in the park.

Go fishing in the nearby lake.

Write a journal about his daily thoughts.

Enliven his senses:

Don’t just look, but see.

Don’t just hear, but listen.

Don’t just taste, but savor.

Don’t just smell, but inhale.

Don’t just touch, but feel.

He could be a better husband and a father by prioritizing time for himself, even if it meant cutting the lawn a day after it should be or postponing painting the bathroom ceiling until a rainy day.

His kids came home, did their homework, and disappeared into their rooms. His wife came home and said, “Wow, the house smells wonderful. How did you have time to make bread?” she asked him.

“I didn’t go to work today. I didn’t feel up to it,” he replied. “In fact, I didn’t feel anything at all until now.”

She looked confused. “And what are you’re feeling now?”

“Alive,” he said. He kissed her cheek, and she smiled.

You can reach Rich Strack at richiesadie11@gmail.com.