I Had a Good Day
On the parallel weather of a planet — joy and grief unfolding at the same time, and the small grace of remembering.
One of the strange truths of being alive is that every emotion you’re feeling is being felt by someone else, in reverse, at the exact same moment. Your good day is someone else’s worst day. Your low week is someone else’s first week of peace in a long time.
This poem is for that simultaneity. And for the small grace of holding both at once.
I had a good day today
But it doesn’t mean you did
Someone just breathed their last breath
While someone gave birth to a child
I finally felt myself this week
But it doesn’t mean you did
My friend just cried over heart break
While my Uncle cried because he got a job
I felt so very lost this month
But it doesn’t mean you did
I felt a piece of myself dissolve
While you finally felt at peace
This year, I’ve been looking to find myself
But it doesn’t mean you haven’t already
You see, my heart aches
Yet someone just fell in love
But I had a good day again
And I hope you do too
I think about this when I’m having a hard time and the algorithm hands me someone else’s joy. The instinct is to take it personally — like the universe is rubbing it in. But the universe isn’t rubbing anything in. It’s just doing all of it, everywhere, at once.
Other people’s good days aren’t a comment on yours. Yours aren’t a comment on theirs. The kindest thing you can do, on the days when you have the room, is hope outward — and I hope you do too.
— JTC