The Promise of a Day: Slice of Life

Promise of a Day

We can’t measure the promise of a day in the good luck moments of a morning.

We don’t find it in the right bright sun.

Or in the still calm.

The lack of sirens, honks or shouts don’t hint at anything.

Looking for signs as we trace our regular routine route from many a morning before is also futile.

It’s not in the full cup of coffee. The wiped clean board. The stacks of notebooks, ready.

It isn’t in the quiet. In the noticing. The hoping.

It isn’t hiding waiting to be found.

The promise of a day doesn’t know itself.

It doesn’t announce its arrival in advance.

It doesn’t whisper or yell, “I am here. Notice now.”

The promise of a day is felt in moments. There is a shiver, an extra breath, an extended minute.

When it happens, you will know. Even if sometimes, you hesitate.

But absolutely, the promise of a day is known as night falls.

You have collected it in your arms like a snuggly child. A pile of warm laundry. A stack of tippy books.

Now when you pause and give it your full attention, it unravels and reveals all of its intricacies.

It was possible all along.

In the frustrated sighs.

In the timid smiles of pride.

In the tiny moments of kindness.

It was there when you smiled. When you laughed instead of roared. When you listened instead of talked. It was there when you nodded at a question not spoken aloud. In the little hand that reached for yours. When your response held no judgement. When you welcomed forgiveness.

The promise of a day will happen again. Tomorrow.

Bad Irony: Slice of Life

Slice of Life is hosted by Two Writing Teachers. I thank them for the community they provide. Read more slices here.

47 thoughts on “The Promise of a Day: Slice of Life

  1. “The promise of a day is felt in moments.” What a treat to read this at the end of a busy day and know that “the promise of a day will happen again tomorrow.” Thanks, Carrie, for a beautiful piece of writing.

  2. Holy cow Carrie. This needs to be submitted somewhere. Really.

    But absolutely, the promise of a day is known as night falls.

    You have collected it in your arms like a snuggly child. A pile of warm laundry. A stack of tippy books.

    and

    It was there when you smiled. When you laughed instead of roared. When you listened instead of talked. It was there when you nodded at a question not spoken aloud. In the little hand that reached for yours. When your response held no judgement. When you welcomed forgiveness.

    I’m going to share this with my colleagues.

  3. Carrie,
    I read this in the darkness of the morning; the perfect time to consider all the possibility awaiting me. Your final lines remind me that the promise of the day is really in my hands as I spend the day hoping to catch the right moments. I loved this line, “promise of a day doesn’t know itself.”.

    Usually your post get shared on my Twitter feed, but this seemed perfect for my Facebook friends as they step into another day.

    Cathy

  4. I want to print this out and read it every morning when I walk into my office at school. Just to remind me to be still and watch and listen and wait joyfully and hopefully for all that will happen. Thank you!

  5. This is beautiful – I felt peaceful just reading it. So many lines resonated with me. My favorite is Now when you pause and give it your full attention, it unravels and reveals all of its intricacies. For me pausing is so important. Thank you for sharing this beautiful piece.
    Clare

  6. What a treat to read at the start of the day! I will come back to read it again at the end of the day too. This is powerful writing that is incredibly beautiful. Wow!

  7. Carrie, can I use this piece as one of my Be Inspired pieces when I am hosting the March Slice of Life Challenge? It’s beautiful and reminds me of the message we are trying to spread through the challenge about noticing the moments.

    Please email me your permission at danamurphy143[at]gmail.com.

  8. Beautiful poetic promise of possibilities. I wonder whether this piece came as one whole or was it born thought after thought over a longer stretch of time.

  9. This is such a wonderful reflection. I get panicky when I don’t wake up with an idea for a slice this March so I love your thinking on this. I especially like, “You have collected it in your arms like a snuggly child. A pile of warm laundry. A stack of tippy books.” What great imagery. I loved it!

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