There are crumbs on the table and dust bunnies on the floor and there’s something sticky on the back corner of that one shelf in the fridge that I’m afraid to investigate.
I’m tired and I’m getting a cold and my desk is a mess and the laundry’s piling up and it’s rainy and disgusting outside.
I am profoundly grateful for all of it. This life, my life, is sweeter and more blessed than I deserve. Every year I dread my birthday—vestiges of ghosts long since past—and every year it arrives and I look around and realize, “Life is good and I am lucky.”
Because it is, and I am. Even if this IS the last birthday I’m planning to have. Ahem. (39 is the new black, or something, right? Right.)
And if for some reason I didn’t realize my good fortune, magical forces are hard at work to remind me.
I’m the first one up on school days. (Coincidentally, I am often the last one up on the weekends. These two things are related.) So I’m in the office working and in the kitchen making breakfasts and packing lunches well before the kids stir. They each came in to squeeze me and wish me a happy birthday, and then later, I discovered that my bed had already been made. WITH MAGIC!
(The room fairy is a tricksy one.)
After that wonderful surprise, I returned to my office to discover that today isn’t just supposed to be a good day, I actually have an official pass sitting on my computer to make SURE that I can redeem today as a good one.
I’m not sure to whom I’m supposed to give this pass, but that’s okay… I plan to keep it on my bulletin board. It’s a great reminder that I don’t need to have a birthday to have a good day.
Today I’d like to give all of YOU a gift, because I’m also grateful for your presence in my life. See my good day pass, there? Feel free to make a copy for yourself. I’m happy to share. And trust me, that little blue slip of paper does seem to be a bit of self-fulfilling prophecy.
It’s a good day. It’s a good life.