Ordinary Extraordinary

My daughter is off working on theater tech today, and will be back for a voice lesson late this afternoon.  Last night she went to dinner and a movie with a girlfriend, and tomorrow she plans to watch the Superbowl with the three girls who have been her best friends since maybe third grade.  All pretty ordinary events in the life of a high school senior, but there have been times in her life when the hope of enjoying any of those things seemed tenuous at best.

My father and his wife are reveling in the long-awaited sunshine streaming through their windows in the woods in southern Ohio.  An ordinary day made starkly precious by the ominous presence of cancer cells, and the knowledge that the number of such days are limited.

The marsh is quiet this morning, despite the re-emergence of the sun and the depth of blue in the sky.  But by the end of the month, even though snow will probably be falling, red-winged blackbirds will be calling across the reeds, establishing their territories for the coming months.  Such optimism they will convey in the face of a blizzard!

I've just been talking on the phone with one of my sons.  He's taking a break from writing a term paper and lounging around his room.  Ordinary.  But there was a time when his upside down and backward letters caused us to wonder whether college would even be in his future.

Last night we helped friends celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary.  Their  24-year-old son made a beautiful toast, in which he noted that they hadn't wanted anything fancy, just a quiet evening at home with the friends who have meant so much to them.  The same old group of people, wearing jeans and drinking champagne.

I mentioned in my other journal a prayer that I had read elsewhere,  "for the grace of a normal day."  My normal day on Thursday included an envelope, covered with hearts (how did she find that?) from Judi Heartsong, containing my contest prize.  Such vibrant colors -- they lit up an ordinary hallway on an ordinary gray afternoon.  Or was it her generosity that did that?

Ordinary days.  Extraordinary.

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This entry was inspired by another one, in which the writer's student is quoted as saying, "the poet's fish was no ordinary fish--otherwise there would be no need to write a poem about it."

Uh huh.  How old do you have to be to know the opposite?