There is no best day.There is only a breeze of memories, the golden, glowing, glorified memories, thought of too often so that they are no longer real. They are the ones of a friend’s smile, the reciting of poetry, the day with the yellow dog on the beach, the shared journals in the best friend’s attic. There is not a day, a limit of 24 hours in which my best happiness is contained. Instead there are the epiphanies, the shared tears, the broken joy of life and love. How could these all be discovered in a day? Orange juice, backstage adrenaline, wrapping paper, kisses- only a lifetime of joyful memories growing slightly yellow from age. Only, but enough.

     As for the worst? I prefer to see every misery and strife and anger and malice of my past as a building stone for the higher ground I have reached. The day I told my brother I hated him?, has shown me again and again just how much I love him, in the guilt that I felt and the regret that I feel every time I record that day on the porch when I pulled my last card in a fit of exasperation.  The day I realized the betrayal of a once treasured friend?, a door to a new stage of letting go and keeping open. I  may tear at the thought, but here, it has brought me to a better place.