A GOOD DAY

Today was a good day.

I learned something. I needed a word in Spanish meaning way more than funny. My trusty old Latin American Spanish/English dictionary's definitions for uproarious, hilarious, a scream and half a dozen other terms for really funny fell short of the task. I googled it. Finally, my ten-minute search paid off; I found just the adjective I needed: arrasador. (Its primary meaning is destructive or devastating.)

            For those four glorious minutes, 
            my spirit took wing.

I gave something. Today I started studying for my first training session to become a hospice volunteer. It's the kind of service I've been thinking about ever since my parents died—spending time with folks who know their lives are drawing to a close. Some of them will have no one else.

I experienced wonder. In fact it happened twice before I'd finished breakfast. I was looking out my Minneapolis window at Nature all decked out in fresh white. I thought of how exotic the colors of a Caribbean reef or the deepest Amazon forest are to me, and imagined someone who'd never before seen snow finding this sight every bit as breathtaking. It struck me that, even for one who's seen snow all my life, this was indeed that kind of glorious moment. I had just been taking it for granted; not today.

I soared. While I was admiring the snowscape, as if to orchestrate my awe, they played Copland's Fanfare for the Common Man on the radio. I stopped chewing my cereal, put down my spoon and just listened. I let the sounds, the soaring and the sublime, transport me. For those four glorious minutes, my spirit took wing.

Yes, it was a good day. But such days are not uncommon for me; they seem to seek me out.

What makes a good day for you?