I thought I was having a great day. I brought home a new painting, a bright whimsical scene with multicolored houses and lollipop-shaped trees. It cheered up my wall. Then the phone calls started. Upset family, depressed friends, friends in pain at the hospital, full moon outside the doors and agony under the roofs.
I selfishly wanted to enjoy my small stab of joy when I looked at the charming innocence of the painting and forget the needs of all these people who pulled me from the imaginary utopia of my perfect moment.
Could I do it? Would . . .
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “a great day.”
First 50 Words - Prompts for Writing Practice 
I open my eyes and nothing new hurts, and the things that normally do, hurt less. My brain functions smoothly and clearly, I’m not crippled by fatigue and I can do somethings I enjoy. Hearing my son’s voices, usually over the phone because they no longer live in the same city I do. Listening to children play, watching young siblings do all those things siblings do with each other, tease, be selfish, be generous, be concerned, act as though other siblings don’t exist. And the argument against homeschooling has to do with a “lack of socialization”. Define socialized. Where other children teach a child how to act without the interaction or sufficient interaction from an adult to moderate the worst of behavior. I think we’ve been seeing the results of that kind of socialization come to fruition in our schools the last few years. What about the kind of socialization where children interact with a variety of ages, skill levels, capabilities, and races on a regular or daily basis, moderated, and guided by an adult who actually has the right to some authority in their lives. Yada, Yada, Yada…….
This morning I woke to cat fur on my lip and purring in my ear. I walked through a messy hallway on creaking boards, stepping over unfolded laundry and dustbunnies that kissed my toes. Opening a squeaking door, a little boy in Spiderman pajamas turned his green eyes to me and broke into a furious grin.
“Hi, Mama!” he said, scooting his sock feet over to me so he could kiss my hip (as high as he could reach).
A little girl with stickstraight blond hair in her eyes peered over the edge of her crib with eyes like melted snow, and held her arms of chub up expectantly….
“Have a great day,” said the check-out cashier to my bag of chips, soda, cole slaw and hot dogs; well at least that’s where her eyes were looking when she said it. I wondered if this was just her mechanized response to everyone; too tired to make eye contact, sleep walking through her day, waiting till clock-out time and the start of her own, ‘great day’.
I thought about it for a nanosecond and then picked up my bag, looked inside and said, “Thanks, you too,” then I left for the beginning of my own great day, I hoped.