Friday, September 26, 2014

while it is still called today

Today is a gift.

I see it written on the wing of a Monarch butterfly; wrapped in a cigar roll leaf that holds a caterpillar cocoon; tucked into the pods of a touch-me-not and spotted along the back of the leopard frogs in the muddy pools.

Today is a gift.

I walk, I rejoice, I glory in the hot sun of a late September day after a cooler than usual summer.

Today I could shout it from the rooftops or dance it out in a newly mown field.

In the back of my mind is tomorrow.

One of these tomorrows will bring snow and icy blasts that make me fight with the door to open it. The drafts running down my back will remind me that my schoolhouse was built before insulation. My electric blanket and fleece pajamas will run overtime and hot drinks keep the kettle bubbling.

However,

Tomorrow will become today and through gritted, chattering teeth I will remind myself that today is a gift. It's harder to believe but I have chosen to insist on believing it. When that last shoe drops and getting out of bed seems pointless, my song becomes a prayer: "Oh Lord, my God, when I in awesome wonder, consider all the works thy hands have made...."

Each and every day is a gift.