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It’s Not Just One of Those Days…

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Right before the loud ferry horn made it’s grand entrance, the older gentleman sitting two seats away from me looked as though he was struggling to get something out of his pocket. As he was fidgeting, the cup that was in his hand spilled all over his, what looked to be, a brand new jacket.

“Damnit! All over my jacket,” he shouted. “Now it’s all stained!”

I watched as he took the napkins from the lady across from us and cleaned off his jacket. As he was doing so, he turned to me and simply said, “It’s just one of those days, today.”

“Yup, it’s just one of those day’s,” I thought to myself as I became rushed with anger.

He had no right to say those six words, because those six words are not something to take lightly. It’s something I had to learn on my own, as well, and hope that gentleman one day does, too.


My morning wasn’t the greatest. First, I overslept, slipped on ice, spilled coffee everywhere in my car and then, I was stuck in traffic for nearly thirty minutes. Not even country music blasting on my radio could give me the slightest smile.

As I exited the highway, I reached the first light, and what felt like the longest red light in my entire life. With the type of morning I was having, I didn’t think it was going to get any better until I became distracted with what was in front of me.

I watched as a family of three walked on the bright, chilly day.

I watched as every step they took, the wind followed them and brushed through the mother’s hair as the leaves rattled past them. I noticed how tightly the little girl clutched onto her parent’s hands with each of her tiny fingers as they approached the big office building before me, that looked like a doctor’s office.

The little girl looked no more than five years old, but the more I watched her, the more I realized she wasn’t an ordinary five-year-old. She was different.

The yellowish coloring around her brown eyes jumped out at me; she was very frail looking, and it made me wonder. If my windows were rolled down, I probably would’ve heard the braces on her legs as she walked.

Why the wind only brushed through her mother’s hair and not hers as she took her hood off, gave me all the answers I needed.

The little girl was sick. But that’s not what made her different. It was her smile.

It was as bright as an August sun.; brighter than candles lit on a birthday cake or inside St. Patrick’s Cathedral.

The sound of the loud car horn behind me placed me back into reality and in subconscious, I moved my right foot onto the gas pedal and continued to drive. The entire journey to my destination, I couldn’t help but think about that family.

I became overwhelmed with questions that I didn’t have the answers to, and would never know. But what I did know, that little girl changed me and my view point.


I admit it, I sweat the small stuff and let the little things get to me. I complain about nonsense things that’re stupid. I use the “poor me” card when things don’t go right for me.

If you think about it, we’re all guilty of doing one or all of those at one point or another. We’re even guilty of saying, “it’s just one of those days,” when things don’t go right. I’ve said it many times before, just like that morning I overslept.

But truth be told, none of us have the right to use those six measly words: “it’s just one of those days.”

I know I don’t, but that little girl and her family, they do.

I don’t wear braces on my legs. I have hair; I don’t have yellowish coloring around my eyes, nor am I frail looking. But that little girl, she does.

She has far worse problems to worry about, to complain about, and many reasons to use the “poor me” card, than any of us do.

As I lie in bed at night, I still find myself flooded in questions about that little girl. When she woke up that morning, what was it like? Was everything going well or did something go down the wrong path for her? How many times does she have to see a doctor? Does her life consist of going back forth to different doctors? How many hospital stays has she had? How bad is the cancer? Is she in remission, or at least close to it? Will she be okay?

But most importantly, I still can’t shake the look of the smile on her face. Why was there such a big smile when she looked as though she was putting up a great big fight just to take every breath she took? When my day isn’t going the way I planned, it takes a lot for there to be a smile across my face.

Seeing that little girl made me realize three things.

One, always thank God every chance you get. Thank him that everyone in your family and under your roof are healthy, because some people don’t have it that way.

Don’t complain about the little things, or make people feel bad for you, when there are worse things in life to feel bad about.

And lastly, though I thought I had a terrible morning and even referred to it as being “just one of those days,” it wasn’t. It wasn’t just one of those days, just like it wasn’t just one of those days to that gentleman beside me on the ferry. 

Whenever I have the urge to say it, I stop and think back to those long few seconds of my life as I sat at that red light. That morning, I watched first handed what someone’s life actually consists of everyday.

Because to that family, it’s not just one of those days. For them, it’s been another sleepless night, another day filled with doctor visits, more minutes filled with deep, meaningful prayers for hope, and tears shattered with sadness.

For them, it’s one of those lives.

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It’s Not Just One of Those Days…