Gratitude for a great day

What a great day. There are days when something huge happens, like your wedding, and days when something amazing happens, like you get into your first-choice college, and all kinds of really special days when significant and unforgettable things occur. But days like today are more like a string of smooth iridescent beads on a necklace: not the valuable jewels of a family heirloom, not showy enough for a celebrity to wear to the Oscars, maybe not even quite elegant enough to wear to a job interview, but just somehow beautiful, with a simple perfection worth celebrating.

First of all, we weren’t rushed this morning. Since Tim started school five years ago, get-out-the-door morning chaos has been my nemesis. Whether we biked or drove or caught the bus, mornings were always stressful and rushed. But this fall has been easier. The kids get up earlier and finish breakfast before they have to, and Tim is ready to leave in plenty of time. That’s what happened today. He ate, brushed his teeth, collected his things for school, and I drove him to the bus stop, all a few minutes ahead of schedule.

Holly dressed herself without complaint and, given the choice of driving or walking to the bus stop (it’s about a third of a mile), surprised me by agreeing to walk. The sun was shining; the foliage felt thick and lush from yesterday’s rain. Some of the leaves are still bright green, others gold, some pale yellow, and a few already crimson or chartreuse. But all so abundant. Walking down the long driveway was like moving through the inside of a kaleidoscope.

I dug into the day’s foremost work priority, writing copy for a medical website: a task more intimidating than tedious. By 11, the dog was pestering me for a run, so we headed out. At first I was surprised by a tinge of fall briskness in the air, but as we headed toward the town center I realized it was warm in the sun, and we were both so happy to be out. The high school kids had the day off for Yom Kippur, and all along the mile to the center we passed small groups of teenagers. Charlie Fitzpatrick was doing yardwork, and a boy from church was pushing his bike along the path as he chatted with two girls I didn’t recognize. More kids were walking along closer to the Center. What a glowing picture they painted of teenagers on a day off from school.

When we got back, the run had rejuvenated my energy enough that I finished the medical copywriting, which was a big relief, and I made a delicious lunch: meatless soy “ground beef” and black beans heated with black olives, sliced tomatoes, grated cheddar cheese and avocado chunks, plus some tortilla chips crumbled on top. For dessert, a big (unnecessarily big, but I savored every bite) slice of the chocolate zucchini cake I made over the weekend.

A little more writing in the afternoon and then time with the kids when they got home from school. Tim and I played two games of ping pong: first he crushed me, 21-9 or something like that, and then I beat him 21-13. When we were done playing, the spanikopita I’d made earlier was ready to come out of the oven: buttery, savory, almost as good as the one I made for the teachers’ luncheon last week. (It wasn’t possible for this one to quite match up, because the one from last week was the one we couldn’t eat, so of course it looked just a little bit better!)

Now it’s softly raining, which is a sound I love at bedtime. So: great day from beginning to end. And yet…while someone, me, is having a great day, it’s someone else’s worst day. Soldiers are dying, children are starving, and my parents have a friend who is the subject of a police search because he has been missing for over a week. Sometimes it’s hard to reconcile having such a happy day while knowing other people are miserable. But I don’t think it makes sense to ignore the good things on that basis, either. So, we notice and celebrate the small good everyday moments, knowing that there will always be someone suffering while we are rejoicing, and knowing too that the opposite might come as well, in time. But believing that appreciating what is good in everyday life is still the right thing to do.