I’m told that each day is a gift. That what I do with that gift is up to me.
Do I tear into the wrapping, not caring how carefully it’s presented, just to get to what’s inside?
Is there shaking, weighing it in my hands, trying to decipher the contents before opening, deciding if I really want this gift, whether to open it or set it aside for later?
Or, do I gently peel back the paper to take a peek inside, eager with anticipation, but wanting to savor the moment?
Like the cotton socks my grandmother gives me each Christmas, is my new day practical, but boring?
Do I get a new puzzle or game so that I can share the fun with friends and family, or is it a special gift meant only for my eyes?
There is no receipt. If it’s the wrong color or size, I can’t return it. Am I still happy, still appreciative for the thought of the day?
I’m told I should be grateful for each new day. Grateful for the uninspired as well as the extravagant. I can’t always have diamonds and gold. Some days will be dish towels and magazine subscriptions.
I hope I can be content with what I am given, despite the surprises or disappointments. That I can accept these gifts with a glad heart and make the most of them, whether they were good or bad.
At the end of all my days, hopefully there are more gifts in my ‘keep’ pile than in my ‘give away’ pile.
Trifecta, a weekly one-word prompt, challenges writers to use that word in its third definition form, using no less than 33 words or no more than 333. The week’s prompt is: Heart [noun \hahrt\] 3: personality, disposition
*From the Vault of If Mom Says OK. Originally published Aug. 2010; reworked and edited for Trifecta. A special ‘Thank you’ to Kim@Amommaly for her Disclaimer suggestion.