Learning to appreciate a day out of context has made me a much happier person, and a better person for other people to know. The basic definition of this phrase is that even if you feel your whole life stinks, there are days, hours, minutes, that are absolutely perfect. They are better than what you would construct in your imagination.

The most recent example I can think of is the day of my sister's wedding. The week before it and the week after it were absolutely hellish. I flew from Arizona to Detroit a week early to help out, and I was cold, sick, and totally unappreciated by anyone in my family. Granted, it was not my wedding day approaching, but I was running around with my mother's car gathering placards, paying for the wedding cake, wrapping ribbons on programs, sewing wraps and purses, and generally being everyone's errand girl. I spent $400 on a plane ticket and all of my vacation time to do this, a thank you would have been appropriate. The big day came and my sister was a shrew. It destroyed me to see her swearing at our very young cousins, having a hateful look on her face and well, generally being a total bitch. She wanted outside pictures, in October, in Michigan. 45 degrees outside, with backless, sleeveless dresses. Next to a river. I became sicker than I already was. After the wedding was over, all of the activity died down and I was stuck in suburbia with no transportation, and nothing but Christian books and Amway type videos in my mother's house. Not even any NyQuil. I left after that "vacation" feeling as though I had been beaten. Even what was supposed to be a joyous reunion in Ohio was turned sour by my borrowed vehicle getting impounded.

Then I got home to Tempe. I calmed down. I looked back on the last two horrific weeks and began to wash some color over the harsh black and white of my memories. There was so much to appreciate, that I would have been a fool to banish it all from my thoughts, the way I wanted to. The color of the leaves. My youngest sister wearing a furry cowboy hat to the bachelorette party. My now brother-in-law weeping uncontrollably during their wedding vows. My grandmother telling me I look beautiful. Eating really good Arabic food in east Dearborn. Seeing witchiepoo's babies, with their pudgy little cheeks. The relief in finding out that the truck was only impounded, and not stolen - the title was in the glove compartment (I know, S M R T). Giving a speech about the beautiful woman my married sister has grown up to be.

These are the sort of things that make life worth living. The little stuff. I wish there were more people in this world who were a little less near sighted about life.

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