This Day

#2090

“Nothing is worth more than this day.”—Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Read the quote above this morning.

I wonder.

How often do I miss the beauty of a day?

Maybe, because I’m ruminating on something that happened the day before. Wondering what I could have done differently. Or what could have been if whatever.

Or perhaps, because all my attention is consumed by the worries for the days ahead. For the things that may happen, but may not. Or maybe it’s the hope for something that’s not here yet.

Wherever I go, I’m not here.

Sometimes, I feel like I do it on purpose. When things are tough. When I can’t see the worth of the present, I run. I escape backward or forward. I hide in memories or dreams. In regrets or hope. Whatever works. Whatever can take my mind off this day.

Deep inside, I know that nothing is worth more than this day.

I just forget it.

That’s when I need to be reminded of it.

That’s why I need to write it.