Small surprises are the key to a beautiful day | News, Sports, Jobs

Last week I had a day full of little surprises and nice surprises. If someone had told me before Thursday that surprises were waiting for me, I probably would have wondered which tire was ready to go flat. Or which electricity bill would double? But on that sunny day, small pleasant surprises started early.

I woke up before the alarm and felt really rested. Sleepless nights have become very common now, but that wonderful feeling? Wow! This NEVER happens. Is this how all these cheerful morning people wake up every day? Most mornings, no matter how much time I spend in the feathers, I’m still somewhere between a coma and a daze. My creaking joints usually complained loudly, but that morning they were just whispers. Waking up with pleasure was a real surprise and things got better as the morning progressed.

When I finished the newspaper online, I concluded that this was not a bad news day. I didn’t know anyone in the obituaries, and the election was finally over. I solved my morning puzzles at incredible speed and thought a good night’s sleep might have something to do with it. My morning brain isn’t this productive most of the time.

Okay, I thought, this bright morning deserves a nice breakfast. So I decided to eat boiled eggs instead of my usual oatmeal or yogurt. I cracked a jumbo egg into the boiling water and surprise, surprise – it had a double yolk. This ALMOST never happens. I grinned. I don’t know why such a small thing makes me happy, but it’s a double-wrapped treat, a little gift. An unsuspecting chicken laid twin eggs and she never knew it. The breakfast tasted particularly good.

I put on my first woolen trousers of the season and put them in my pockets to straighten my hands. And surprise, what is it? Nothing else feels like money in hand. I didn’t need my eyes to know that this folded scroll was green stuff. Wow, this NEVER happens. Hmm, and it’s not just a few bills rubbing together; maybe six or seven dollars. I opened one, two, three singles, then a five, a ten, a twenty (wow), another twenty, then (gasp) another – $78! How can this happen? How could I put these pants aside when I had cash in my pocket? Nevermind. This was last spring and this is $78 now. It will be a beautiful day.

I went to laboratory work at the hospital thinking it was a good thing to be alive. I laughed to myself, remembering that old bromide: “It’s always nice this side of the grass.” I felt incredibly cheerful and $78 richer.

Then surprise, surprise. I hit all six green lights on my way to the hospital. This NEVER happens! I usually stop at at least two red lights, and most days I stop at all of them. The journey from home to the hospital car park can take ten minutes. Last Thursday morning he only took four!

And late that afternoon, Dear Richard called from work and offered to pick up dinner. Could the day get any better?

That evening, after dinner, I happily settled into my nest to read my mail and began to think about the little blessings of the day. Then the phone rang and to my surprise, it was an old friend from Maine who I only talk to once a year. We always meet, laugh and reminisce for an hour or so before promising to communicate more often. But it always takes ten or twelve months before one of us picks up the phone again. We seem to be continuing our conversation from where we left off. and the warmth of our friendship continues year after year.

That night, I went to bed thinking about how the little surprises of my day made it unforgettable. Individually, these little pleasures only count as a fleeting moment of happiness on any given Thursday. A joyful awakening, a sunny day, a double-wrapped windfall, a few green lights, a fun card in the mail, a surprise phone call; They had spent a happy, unforgettable day together, even if it wasn’t usually worth mentioning. . I felt lucky to be able to appreciate the small pleasures of a day like this.

Each night, when I settle into my comfortable bed, I am grateful to sleep in safety and warmth, not on the cold streets of the city. As the clock ticked past midnight, my last joy was falling asleep quickly, tired and happy… one last little rare surprise.

Tasty.

Marcy O’Brien writes from her home in Warren, Pennsylvania.