One of those days

It strikes me that most days can end with the sentiment, "It's just been one of those days," yet we never really define what those days are. I just looked it up. One of those days means a bad day. Why is it that we have defined "one of those days" negatively? Do we have a universal saying for when it's been one of those fantastic days? When someone tells you, "oh, it's just been one of those days," you nod knowingly. We can all connect on the shit in life. Yet, we don't have a similar phrase that is met with the same deep knowingness for one of those damn good days. It's like we are afraid to celebrate life. You wouldn't want to look like you were showing off.

If someone asks you, "how are you?" One is expected to say, "fine." If you say that you are not so well, that elicits sympathy and concern. If you say that you are doing great, the other person may smile, but likely is thinking, "who the fuck does she think she is?"

I think today was one of those days for me... but it was not bad. It was full. It spent most of my emotions to the limit. I began the day with the simple pleasure of deck coffee and homemade granola. I spent the day engrossed in ideas, planning, meeting, doing, coaching and deciding. I saw a good friend and processed, I dealt with a hard situation of one of my students. But the moment, the moment that is the most vivid lasted only 5 minutes.

There we were, Leah and I, sitting and talking. Debriefing from the various emotions that one of those days holds. Unweaving the complexities of urban, young professional life. I was listening intently, but found myself distracted by these two little twins running around the park with their parents in tow. The twins were excited by EVERYTHING in sight. True delight is hard to avoid staring at.

Eventually, the little girls came close to us. Their full smiles were infectious, halting Leah and my conversation completely. As they approached and retreated we attempted to maintain our trains of thought with little success. Then, then the moment happened. Little Sarah (I later found out her name) approached with a sly smile. She stumbled her way through our bags, leaned in toward me and gave me a huge hug. She then turned around and plopped down in my lap.

Her dad looked at me apologetically. As adults, we see this kind of behavior as completely inappropriate. But, I smiled back at him assuringly. This is just what I needed. My little friend returned to hug me several more times. She also showed me how neat grass is and how one should definitely not eat it. We laughed and sighed. It occurred to me in our interactions that she did not yet understand the concept of "having one of those days" or holding back your own joy. She brought all the joy in the world to every interaction and I didn't react by thinking, "who the fuck does she think she is coming around here all happy and shit?"

No, no. I smiled back. I hugged back. I forgot about my day and joined her in hers. There is a lot we can learn from 1-year-olds.