A Day Unlike Any Other

I am December 9th.

In 1989, a particularly special human

was born on me.

This one

came out beaming

as if the sun itself was being

thrust

into re-existence.

She didn't even cry.

She gulped the air

like an astronaut

taking of her helmet

and smiled.

Mission complete.

I am only a single day

among many others.

A hair upon the head of Time,

distinguishable only by it’s position.

And though I may blend in with the rest,

there is only one of her.

Every year I await her return.

"364 days to go",

is the song I sing

when Time ticks to twelve.

And each year when she arrives

I'm bewildered.

She grows

like a dandelion through

fractured stone.

Determined.

At first,

when she returns to me,

she’s filled with excitement.

A balloon, ready to burst.

But as the years go by,

I can see the dread building

like dust on a windowsill.

“Another year older”

she says,

with despair like a ball

chained to words.

I watch

helplessly

as the beaming light inside her

fades to the low flicker on a wick.

I used to bring her so much joy,

but soon

she arrives with tears

in buckets

as if she’s been saving them all for me.

I don’t understand,

for I am just a day,

and to me,

Time has not left it’s scar

upon her.

But before long,

those buckets turn

from wells to caverns,

and I’m afraid she’ll drown.

Just when I begin to believe

she’s through with me,

her flicker brightens.

Suddenly she’s a bonfire

igniting everything within

breaths reach,

and I can feel her warmth

even from 233 days away.

Something’s changed.

Something magnificent.

And I cannot wait to greet her again

because I can see the blazing trail

of hope

she brings.