Look around, look around, at how lucky we are to be alive right now. History is happenin’.
—Lin-Manuel Miranda, “The Schuyler Sisters,” Hamilton
There are days when we know we are lucky—
when we go for a walk and find, beneath dead leaves,
yellow petals. When an envelope brings a surprise check.
When a loved one calls to say they will visit. When
our name is pulled from a hat.
And then there are days our luck is less clear.
When the commercial world as we know it collapses.
When the schools and restaurants and whole towns are closed.
When our paycheck is gone and we can’t pay
next month’s rent. When loved ones lives are threatened.
Yes then, it’s much harder to say we are lucky.
But. Every day, every day for the last week,
every day when I wake, I think to myself,
This, this is the day to make a difference.
This is the day to bring your best self to the world.
This is the day to shine and work and forgive.
Every cell in me is wildly alive. Every moment
feels like a gift. I’m transfixed. Every minute
feels like an invitation to show up more open,
more vulnerable, more brave than I ever dreamed I could be.
And damn, if that isn’t lucky, I don’t know what is—
morning light reaching in, bathing the room with gold.
