Each new day

Festivities were over. Light streamed across the walls of the living room as the last car pulled out of the driveway and I surveyed the chaos around me.

I picked up the gift from my mother from its position on the couch where I had tossed it after opening it and throwing out a quick "thank you" and going on. The small box in my hand held a day-by-day calendar.

"'Keep-A-Tab Calendar'" The words on the box glared at me. "Huh. What was she thinking? Who wants to keep a tab of all the hard things they've gone through in the course of one day?" Indeed, that was what the calendar was meant for. Each page was covered with rows of small boxes intended for a check mark whenever something has gone wrong.

"What a crazy gift." But, for my mother, I resolved to try it.

I opened the box, took up a pen, and began to check the boxes on the first page.

“Isn’t that encouraging to look at?” With a sarcastic smirk I put the calendar on my dresser and prepared for bed.

As I stumbled out of bed the next morning I absent-mindedly tore off the page from the previous day.

The truth struck me then, and I realized why my mother had given it to me in the first place. The page on the calendar was now empty. Not a mark on it.

Each day starts out brand new—no mistakes in it.