The Best Day

Today could be it. The best day yet. Why not? I got up early and walked straight into the morning. The sun was doing that thing it does, rising slyly over the hill, then splash-dazzling in a sudden glory, gleaming the landscape, angling through the branches and enchanting every path. The wind was a commotion, pushing me along, slowing me down, noisy and playful, each gust scattering leaves and blossoms into the air like confetti.  

I fell down a couple of days ago. I was at the edge of town after a storm. I could see snow on distant mountains, and luminous stretches of green, and it looked magical out there. I started walking on a curb along an irrigation ditch, hoping to find an open place in the fields where I could get a good long look at the horizon. But I must have been a little too focused on the scenery beyond, and I tumbled onto the ground surprisingly hard. I fell in a tangled heap, mostly landing on my right side. I lifted myself gingerly, and limped back to the parking lot, humiliated and shaky.  

That’s what happens sometimes. You’re having a perfectly fine moment, and then, crash. As they say, we all fall down. I had bloodied my knees, torn some garments, bruised my face, and banged an arm and a rib. Today’s walk was partly an experiment to see how sore I felt, and partly an exercise in pushing myself, in working through a setback rather than letting the damage take hold and harden.   

But this too is what happens sometimes: You’re walking along thinking it’s an ordinary day, and then, lo and behold, everything is illuminated. The wind in your ears is an ancient song, and suddenly you listen. A hawk is riding the air currents high above and your heart goes soaring too, while benevolent trees watch over you and show their shadow art, and you feel their presence and their gifts. The portal of your mind unlatches, and that shining stream is freed, and there isn’t any place you cannot wander. It’s all there, everything you remember, everything you forgot. You thought it was just another day and now your whole soul is realigned. You’re giddy with it. You’re in the midst of the best day of all.

So much has been altered and taken away that what’s left to us is more distinct and precious than ever before, and I see it in a whole new light. I even have a grandson faraway, and I am picturing him in what my daughter calls his “olden days”, the part of his life for which he would have been too young to recall in the future, except maybe in impressions and sensations, the pre-verbal poetry of the subconscious. As I stroll through my own here and now, I wonder what he might someday imagine of me. I hope someone will tell him that he brought me joy even before I held him. I am thinking about him on the best day I ever had, the one I’m having now.

My bones hurt just a little, but nothing is broken.