I walked into work this morning, coffee in hand and thoughts in mind, and was asked “Hey! How was your weekend?” “It was a good one, actually. Especially yesterday. Thanks-- You?” “What exciting thing made it so wonderful?”
And there I had to stop and think. Not about whether the day was wonderful or not, not about the smile that stayed with me for the rest of the afternoon, not about the gratefulness I feel or the hope I have that another such day might occur. It was my colleague’s word choice and the assumption that for the day to be a good one, something exciting must have happened. I don’t begrudge him the word or the thought…it just made me hesitant to actually engage in a description with him when I know from experience that by common measure, what constitutes a really good day for me doesn’t quite match the going definition.
I had brunch with a friend. We covered Church, philosophy, politics, racism, poetry, art, families, work... To extend the conversation, I walked with her back to her apartment where she was going to pick up her car and go visit her father. Along the way, we commented further on the impulse to write and create, we noted the fresh portent blooms on the pear trees gracing the sidewalks, we marveled at the soft perfection of an arc created by a construction net hanging from a building.
If that constitutes exciting, so be it. The important, grace-filled thing to me is that it happened.