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.
Slice of Life is hosted by Two Writing Teachers. I thank them for the community they provide. Read more slices here.
There's a Book for That 
It isn’t where we expect it, is it?
What a magical piece, Carrie.
Thank you. And no, not where we expect it!
“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.
Thanks Ramona!
Thanks, I needed to read this today. It’s a beautiful reminder to hold on to the good things that reveal themselves.
So pleased it struck a chord.
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.
Many thanks Kimberley for your enthusiasm and encouragement!
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
I am so honoured that you are going to share this Cathy.
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!
Wow. This means so much!
What a wonderful way to start my morning. Thank you so much for sharing.
Thanks Kathy
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
We don’t pause enough do we? Thanks Clare.
I love each part, but that final paragraph is just wonderful, Carrie. Teachers everywhere should read, take time to “listen” & they will have the day, too.
Thank you Linda! 🙂
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!
Many thanks!
This is a beautiful read: whether we want to celebrate a wonderful day or just want to think about hitting the reset button after a bad one.
So true! Thanks Stacey.
So beautiful Carrie. The promise of a day moves me forward and helps me reflect on what is yet to come.
Thank you Faige and also for sharing on twitter.
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.
Dana, I am honoured. Sent you an email.
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.
I wrote a section about a week ago and then the last part came together a few days ago. So two chunks . .
Thank you for the reply.
Carrie, your words left me breathless in the wake of reading your poetic piece. “The promise of a day doesn’t know itself.” This is a truth that I will hold onto.
What a lovely comment – thank you.
This is brilliant, Carrie. Would love to share, with your permission.
Yes, absolutely. Thank you.
This is how to begin each day – beautifully written, Carrie.
Thank you Tara. I need to hold on to the possibilities when the day is very challenging.
This is such a gorgeous piece of writing and it truly made my day.
Thanks so much Crystal.
Such wise words. I am so glad I stopped by to read it.
Thanks for stopping by!
Beautiful! Reading your post was a wonderful way to start my day. It’s so important to remember the potential for the promise in each day. Thank you.
I am so pleased it resonated.
Thanks for sharing, Carrie! What an important reminder!
Thank you!
*mic drop*
So touching. So beautiful. March is going to be a fabulous month of reading your words.
You are too kind. Still trying to get my head around the daily writing. But I suppose, one piece at a time, it will happen.
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!
Thank you so much!