It is hard to say goodbye to a good day.

Whenever I have a great day, such as today; a day in which nothing or nearly nothing goes wrong, and I am able to enjoy life in its purest form, as the morning turns into evening and into night, I am often unable to go to sleep. It is really hard to say goodbye to a good day. Maybe tomorrow will be good too, but I can't help thinking that I would rather have today for the second time around.

I am reminded of a poem I read once, 'Today':

If ever there were a spring day so perfect,

so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze

that it made you want to throw

open all the windows in the house

a day when the cool brick paths

and the garden bursting with peonies

seemed so etched in sunlight

that you felt like taking

a hammer to the glass paperweight

on the living room end table,

releasing the inhabitants

from their snow-covered cottage

so they could walk out,

holding hands and squinting

into this larger dome of blue and white,

well, today is just that kind of day.

I wish we could hold these simple, quiet days in a special cabinet of our memory, where we would remember every single detail of every light seen and every word said, and every sigh breathed, and every thing touched, and again count, and touch, and turn them over; their minutes like gold coins in a treasure chest.