Today Emma and I were discussing the days of the week. As any good caregiver or adult would do, I told her what day tomorrow would be, what day yesterday was, and what she did with her time on each respective day, in hopes that she would understand. That's the thing about children, they have no concept of time. You can tell them they have five minutes left to play, they can agree, but then you can end their play in a minute or ten, without them knowing they'd been tricked.
I asked Emma what today was, hoping that with our small lesson she'd figured it out. For a moment she thought, tilting her little head, until her eyes lit up with an answer. "That's easy, Molly." Her small voice came out assured. "Today is a new day." She gave me a look that said I obviously should have known this, because I am an adult, and adults know everything.
I couldn't help but laugh, because even though I wanted her to say Tuesday, her answer hadn't been wrong. I told her that yes, today was a new day, but we could also call it Tuesday. She dismissed me, knowing her answer was the best.
I couldn't forget what she answered, the childhood innocence and assurance that she was correct. It kept playing in my head, That's easy, today is a new day. Even though she obviously hadn't meant it that way, her reasoning was poetic.
Today, each day, is a new day. No matter if it's a Monday with a week full of problems to be solved, or a Saturday that starts a weekend of being alone, at the core they're the same; they are new days. New days full of new possibilities, new chances to explore the world, new moments to find something in the ordinary. They're new days to refocus, to give yourself grace for the mistakes of yesterday, and set your mind on who you can be for yourself and others today.
For so long, each day has just been a name; Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. They've held no greater meaning than to be a goal to get to, a milestone in the week to show I'd survived, that I had made it, that I only had a little farther to go before I could lay in my bed and wallow in self pity, but not anymore; no, not anymore. Each day is a new day, a new day of hope, a new day to breathe, a new day to be thankful to be alive. And guess what? Even if that day doesn't hold all joy and possibility, there's always tomorrow, and the next the day; there's always a new day.
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Take a Deep Breath: A Collection of Poetry and Short Stories
PoetryFrom a young age, I have wanted to become a writer. I used to be a good writer, I wrote everyday about anything I could dream of, and of the things that haunted my dreams. Then life got busy. School, a job, hanging out with friends and being a fianc...
