Aivars staigāja garajiem Rīgas Centrāltirgus gaiteņiem.

Aivars walked through the long corridors of Rīgas Centrāltirgus.

Rudens gaiss bija dzestrs, un tirgū bija dzirdamas smieklu skaņas un pārdevēju kliedzieni, aicinot nopirkt viņu dārzeņus un augļus.

The autumn air was crisp, and the market was filled with the sounds of laughter and vendors' shouts, inviting people to buy their vegetables and fruits.

Viņš uz mirkli apstājās pie ziedu stenda.

He paused for a moment at the flower stand.

Krāsainās krizantēmas un asteres vilināja viņu, bet domas nepiekāpās un atkal atgriezās pie nesen saņemtā zvana no ārsta.

The colorful chrysanthemums and asters beckoned him, but his thoughts would not yield and kept returning to the recent call from the doctor.

Līga, viņa sieva, nesen bija teikusi, ka viņam vajag vairāk atpūsties.

Līga, his wife, had recently told him that he needed more rest.

Aivars, lai gan piecu gadu desmitus vecs, visu mūžu bijis stoiskis.

Aivars, despite being five decades old, had always been stoic.

"Nevajag satraukties," viņš sev norādīja, taču sirds tomēr bija smaga.

"No need to worry," he reminded himself, yet his heart was heavy.

Līgu vairāk par visu mīlēja, bet tagad no ārsta bija saņemts zvans par testu rezultātiem – ziņas, kas nevarēja gaidīt.

He loved Līga more than anything, but he had now received a call from the doctor about test results—news that couldn't wait.

Māris, viņa draugs un tirgus pastāvīgais apmeklētājs, pieskrēja klāt ar lielu acīm sildeju.

Māris, his friend and a regular market visitor, rushed over with wide eyes and a warming smile.

"Aivar, draugs, vai tu mani dzirdi?

"Aivars, my friend, can you hear me?

Tu izskaties kā esi par kaut ko satraucies.

You look like you're worried about something."

""Vispār drusku domāju, bet nekas traks," atcirta Aivars.

"Just thinking a bit, but nothing serious," Aivars replied tersely.

Viņam nepatika runāt par savām problēmām.

He didn't like talking about his problems.

Gandrīz vai instinktīvi viņš lika telefonu atpakaļ kabatā.

Almost instinctively, he put his phone back in his pocket.

Plāns bija pabeigt priecīgi dienu tirgū, taču prāts vēl joprojām klejoja, gaidot skaidrību.

The plan was to finish the day merrily at the market, but his mind was still wandering, waiting for clarity.

Viņi abi pastaigājās starp pārpilniem ābolu groziem un sulīgiem ķirbjiem.

They both strolled among the overflowing apple baskets and juicy pumpkins.

Māris runāja par savu puķu dārzu, kas šogad esot īpaši grezns, tomēr Aivars viņu īsti nedzirdēja.

Māris talked about his flower garden, which he said was particularly splendid this year, but Aivars wasn't really listening.

Domas nemitīgi vērsās pie ārsta zvana.

His thoughts kept turning to the doctor's call.

Tad, it kā likteņa ironiski, telefona zvans atskanēja vēlreiz.

Then, as if by the irony of fate, the phone rang once more.

Sirds uzlec ekrānam tikpat ātri kā viņa rokas.

His heart leaped to the screen as quickly as his hand.

"Jā, ārsts Lūsiņš runā.

"Yes, Dr. Lūsiņš speaking.

Mums ir labas ziņas, testu rezultāti bija negatīvi.

We have good news, the test results were negative.

Jūs varat būt mierīgs," skanēja uz otrā gala.

You can be at ease," came the voice on the other end.

Aivars pievēra acis, sajūtu buķeti ieradās pēkšņi – vieglums, atvieglojums, prieks.

Aivars closed his eyes, a bouquet of emotions arrived suddenly—lightness, relief, joy.

Kad viņš nolika klausuli, pasaule pēkšņi šķita spilgtāka.

When he hung up the phone, the world suddenly seemed brighter.

Viņš pagriezās pret Māri, kurš teica: "Tas taču ir kaut kas labs, vai ne?

He turned to Māris, who said, "That's something good, right?"

""Jā, ļoti labs," smaidīja Aivars.

"Yes, very good," Aivars smiled.

Viņam šķita, it kā būtu no jauna izmantojis iespēju dzīvot katru dienu ar lielāku pateicību.

It seemed to him as if he had been given a new chance to live each day with greater gratitude.

Viņš devās atpakaļ uz tiem ziediem, kurus pirms tam tikām aplūkoja, un nopirka lielu pušķi Līgai.

He returned to those flowers he had been looking at earlier and bought a large bouquet for Līga.

Aivars paņēma ziedus un atpakaļceļā sajuta, ka šie mazie ikdienas brīži patiesi veido dzīvi.

Aivars took the flowers and on the way back felt that these small daily moments truly make up life.

Tā ir dzīves jēga – viņš saprata – dzīvot tagadnē, ciena mākoņu staras, kas lēni sildīja nu jau zelta rudens dienu.

That's the meaning of life—he realized—to live in the present, appreciating the rays of clouds that slowly warmed the now golden autumn day.