In the life of Adam Ashraf, 20 years from now...
Even after nearly a year living in the penthouse my spouse and I bought when Sarah turned two, the panoramic view from the expansive window pane never fails to take my breath away. The sight of every skyscraper looking back at me from my Upper West Side castle in the sky continues to tantalize me. It was what drove me to move to the city from across the world to begin with, after high school, exactly two decades ago. Yet, having been raised in an urban environment myself, it was not the steel erections on their own that appealed to me. In fact, what did was the grandeur of the city with all its theaters, art galleries, fashion shows, club openings, so on and so forth. For a young writer trying to break out of the preordained shell he was fixated in with all its third world constraints, it wasn’t just a good place to be. It was THE place to be. Even when I was living with two roommates in Harlem during college, I never regretted falling for the Big Apple one bit.
My cell phone buzzes right after I switch it on, a status that only remains twelve hours a day since, unlike fellow editors at Vanity Fair, I like to maintain a good balance between career and family life. Aishwarya, my assistant, was calling to confirm the dinner and Broadway reservation that I had made for Taylor and I to celebrate our anniversary and to tell me that the babysitter taking care of Sarah was coming at seven. I wore my Calvin Klein shirt and denim Levi’s bottoms (it was casual Friday), kissed Taylor and Sarah goodbye and took my daily two-and-a-half mile walk to the Theater District. Even though the limousine could come and pick me up from home, since I hated working out I thought the least I could do was take the daily one hour walk during the chilling winter while sipping on my tall Starbucks latte.
In my office Aishwarya, the one person who knows where everything is placed more than I do, hands me over ‘The Book’, the mock-up of our upcoming issue. I flip to the eight pages I am in charge of, the Hollywood and Culture sections, contact Carrie, the theatre critique who never fails to miss her deadline and then saunter off for a meeting with Iman Ali, a longtime friend who also currently happens to be the Editor in Chief of Vanity Fair and, therefore, my boss.
Later in the day, I make it a point to catch up with Elizabeth, the editor of first novella who tells me that I’m going to have to make a trip to Paris later in the winter since an extra 500,000 copies happened to be swept off the shelf there and appearing for a book signing could only make it better. Despite my explicit instructions, Aishwarya keeps buzzing my phone so I pick up to snap at her. Only, she breaks into an animated frenzy first to deliver the earth-shattering news that an article contrasting the works of Miller and Williams I had penned for The New Yorker had just won the Pulitzer for Criticism! Considering the only time I have ever came close to winning any accolade of such prestige was when I was nominated for the ‘Best Book of a Musical’ Tony Award in 2027, this was, indeed, a momentous accomplishment! I immediately text Taylor and mentally plan to use the cash prize to take Taylor and Sarah on a surprise trip to Disneyworld during the upcoming spring break! It was time my little baby saw the beauty of it! Being both children at heart, that was where Taylor and I had had our honeymoon.
At about four, I head back to the office to interview a prospective writer for the magazine. In my heart of hearts, I was pegging lots of hope on him since he was an Ivy Leaguer. Once the interview is over though, I laugh hysterically remembering the days when being an Ivy Leaguer actually meant something. As Veronica, a good friend of mine who currently works as a guidance counselor drops by to meet me at the office, a feeling of déjà vu sweeps through my mind as I recall the time we both first met in eighth grade back in Dubai. Things were so different then. But the only things I took with me from my old life were family and friends, I even left my name behind! After Veronica leaves, some writers come in wanting advice about content, wondering if certain content is appropriate for the magazine’s vision. I smile as I see the look of admiration in their eyes, and remember the little boy who questioned if he could do any of it twenty years ago.
Later that night, Taylor and I decide to go out for dinner at Sardi’s, my favorite restaurant, and then we head to the Imperial to watch the revival of Les Misérables which opened in 2014, making it the second longest running show on Broadway, after The Phantom of the Opera. As always, the show is amazing. Chris Colfer plays the role of Jean Valjean now. We surprise Sarah by telling her about the mystical Disneyworld and she ecstatically runs around her room. Once we have finally managed to somehow subdue her excitement and tuck her in, Taylor and I contentedly slump down into our own bed, ready to conclude this perfect day.
P.S. The story’s title is homage to the song of the same name composed by Stephen Schwartz for bestselling Broadway musical, Wicked.
How would one day in your life a few decades from now be, if you were permitted to have it any way you like? Tweet or post #Onedayinmylife and #HASH on Facebook, or simply write to us at hashthemag@gmail.com to let us know!
Even after nearly a year living in the penthouse my spouse and I bought when Sarah turned two, the panoramic view from the expansive window pane never fails to take my breath away. The sight of every skyscraper looking back at me from my Upper West Side castle in the sky continues to tantalize me. It was what drove me to move to the city from across the world to begin with, after high school, exactly two decades ago. Yet, having been raised in an urban environment myself, it was not the steel erections on their own that appealed to me. In fact, what did was the grandeur of the city with all its theaters, art galleries, fashion shows, club openings, so on and so forth. For a young writer trying to break out of the preordained shell he was fixated in with all its third world constraints, it wasn’t just a good place to be. It was THE place to be. Even when I was living with two roommates in Harlem during college, I never regretted falling for the Big Apple one bit.
My cell phone buzzes right after I switch it on, a status that only remains twelve hours a day since, unlike fellow editors at Vanity Fair, I like to maintain a good balance between career and family life. Aishwarya, my assistant, was calling to confirm the dinner and Broadway reservation that I had made for Taylor and I to celebrate our anniversary and to tell me that the babysitter taking care of Sarah was coming at seven. I wore my Calvin Klein shirt and denim Levi’s bottoms (it was casual Friday), kissed Taylor and Sarah goodbye and took my daily two-and-a-half mile walk to the Theater District. Even though the limousine could come and pick me up from home, since I hated working out I thought the least I could do was take the daily one hour walk during the chilling winter while sipping on my tall Starbucks latte.
In my office Aishwarya, the one person who knows where everything is placed more than I do, hands me over ‘The Book’, the mock-up of our upcoming issue. I flip to the eight pages I am in charge of, the Hollywood and Culture sections, contact Carrie, the theatre critique who never fails to miss her deadline and then saunter off for a meeting with Iman Ali, a longtime friend who also currently happens to be the Editor in Chief of Vanity Fair and, therefore, my boss.
Later in the day, I make it a point to catch up with Elizabeth, the editor of first novella who tells me that I’m going to have to make a trip to Paris later in the winter since an extra 500,000 copies happened to be swept off the shelf there and appearing for a book signing could only make it better. Despite my explicit instructions, Aishwarya keeps buzzing my phone so I pick up to snap at her. Only, she breaks into an animated frenzy first to deliver the earth-shattering news that an article contrasting the works of Miller and Williams I had penned for The New Yorker had just won the Pulitzer for Criticism! Considering the only time I have ever came close to winning any accolade of such prestige was when I was nominated for the ‘Best Book of a Musical’ Tony Award in 2027, this was, indeed, a momentous accomplishment! I immediately text Taylor and mentally plan to use the cash prize to take Taylor and Sarah on a surprise trip to Disneyworld during the upcoming spring break! It was time my little baby saw the beauty of it! Being both children at heart, that was where Taylor and I had had our honeymoon.
At about four, I head back to the office to interview a prospective writer for the magazine. In my heart of hearts, I was pegging lots of hope on him since he was an Ivy Leaguer. Once the interview is over though, I laugh hysterically remembering the days when being an Ivy Leaguer actually meant something. As Veronica, a good friend of mine who currently works as a guidance counselor drops by to meet me at the office, a feeling of déjà vu sweeps through my mind as I recall the time we both first met in eighth grade back in Dubai. Things were so different then. But the only things I took with me from my old life were family and friends, I even left my name behind! After Veronica leaves, some writers come in wanting advice about content, wondering if certain content is appropriate for the magazine’s vision. I smile as I see the look of admiration in their eyes, and remember the little boy who questioned if he could do any of it twenty years ago.
Later that night, Taylor and I decide to go out for dinner at Sardi’s, my favorite restaurant, and then we head to the Imperial to watch the revival of Les Misérables which opened in 2014, making it the second longest running show on Broadway, after The Phantom of the Opera. As always, the show is amazing. Chris Colfer plays the role of Jean Valjean now. We surprise Sarah by telling her about the mystical Disneyworld and she ecstatically runs around her room. Once we have finally managed to somehow subdue her excitement and tuck her in, Taylor and I contentedly slump down into our own bed, ready to conclude this perfect day.
- Adam Ashraf
How would one day in your life a few decades from now be, if you were permitted to have it any way you like? Tweet or post #Onedayinmylife and #HASH on Facebook, or simply write to us at hashthemag@gmail.com to let us know!
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Woah! While reading this I was actually travelling through time. Wonderfully written!
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