“What day is it?” asked Pooh.

“It’s today,” squeaked Piglet.

“My favorite day,” said Pooh.” ― A.A. Milne

This morning I was a good forty-five minutes early for an appointment, so I stopped in at my favorite family-owned café for a cup of coffee and some quiet time for journaling.

“Happy Monday!” I said to the cashier.

“Happy Monday!” she replied with a smile.

We engaged in small talk about the weather and the weekend, as she poured my coffee and rang up my purchase. The café was quiet, just a handful of tables were occupied; the Monday morning rush had already breezed through, and the bright early morning sun promised a beautiful day.

“I love Mondays,” I confessed as she handed me my coffee, “don’t you?”

“I do too, but honestly, I love every day,” she said.

Her words gave me a reason to pause.

I love every day.

“Thank you for that, I needed to hear that,” I told her.

As I sat in a window seat, sipping my coffee, I recalled the numerous times I had reminded my boys, that in life, there would always be people who have more than us and people who have less than us; and while it is hard not to compare, if they learn to embrace and appreciate where they are, they will always be happy; it is the foundation of gratitude.

I chided myself a bit, not applying that same foundation of gratitude, gratitude for each new day. It was during that brief exchange of pleasantries with the cashier, I was reminded that I wasn’t being fully present or grateful for the gift of a brand-new day. I had always played favorite to Monday; I had always proclaimed Monday to be my favorite day – even though there were six other days that followed Monday. It was akin to singling out of my boys as the favorite; that is impossible: I love them both.

Regardless of what the day is called – whether it is Monday or Saturday, the 7th day or the 18th day, a school day or a holiday, each day is a gift – and while some days are better than others, there is no guarantee there will be another one.

Such a profound thought this morning as I realized that I had been thinking in terms of “things” when I tell my boys “there would always be people who have more than us and people who have less than us” – rather than “time” – some will have more time than us, others will have less.

As I watch my dad slowing down, my boys growing up, and the world as it changes around me, I know time is moving ahead, whether I like it or not.

As I wrote, “I love every day” in my journal, I will remind myself to replace the word “Monday” with “every day” as I welcome the gift of a new day.