Every Day is Different. Every. Single. Day.
Out here, on the road (I’ve always wanted to say that. . .), every day is different—unknown, don’t know what’s coming, never done that before different.
I confess: It was a week or more before I even realized that.
One day, we’re watching thunderstorms and listening to hail, in total wonder at the force and speed of nature.
The next, we’re sitting in the only shaded plot of parking lot at the Mazda dealer getting our car serviced.
The thing is: Life is always this way. Every day is different.
So simple. So obvious. And, yet, forgotten.
Kids know this. (My two-year-old niece faces a new, unknown day every morning. A day full of the possibility of jumping (on her trampoline) and of flowers (in the garden, on her clothing) and of who knows what else amazes a two-year old brain.)
Dogs know this. (It’s my favorite thing about my doggie: excited for every single day. Another day to get a belly or ear rub, to investigate every smell outside, to run, to play.)
Every day holds this for us, this wonder, if we let it.
And, so I’m asking, how can I bring this newness into each day when we settle again?
How do you meet each day anew, with the openness of possibility? Do you?