I don't know about the rest of you, but 2009 was a very difficult year for me and my family, and we were all too glad to watch it pass into the ages, and move on. Yet it happens that my birthday falls on January 2nd, which gives me an unusually wonderful opportunity each year to align myself and my intentions with the oncoming new year, and in this case, also the oncoming decade. With this in mind, I gave the way I spent my birthday more thought than usual, and what I got back, blessedly, was an experience I believe happens too rarely: I had a perfect day.

My birthday began when I woke to sunshine, and palm trees dancing wildly in a blustery wind. Not too cool, not too warm. For those of you who live in the south, not a big deal, but for those of us with deep roots in places that grow cold and gray in November and stay that way until April or so, it is a very big deal just to wake up to sunshine! Already, my heart was soaring, and I didn't even know what the day held in store. The sunshine would have been enough.

Next, I found myself in my bright yellow kitchen which has a sweet little lanai garden just outside two large patio windows. From my neighbor's yard over the privacy wall, I could see bougainvillea blooming. On my own patio, the Knockout Rose (a plant I've been trying to get going ever since my sister Judy gave me one 2-3 years ago) had just popped 4-5 delicious little roses!

My daughter Sarah called, and I had a wonderful conversation with her and some happy gurgles from her baby Kai, the best gift of 2009 ever! Rather than "talk" to Nana, Kai prefers to eat the cell phone, but as I can hear his delighted efforts to get closer, I find myself laughing at every silly baby sound. Again: this was enough.

And yet there is more. My dear friend Linda had invited me to a birthday lunch, so over the new high-flying bridge to Longboat Key, its own little paradise in Paradise. Suddenly, a Great American Egret (the big white birds with long black stick-legs and funny yellow feet) lifted out of the water's edge and flew just 3-4 feet over the hood of my car, almost eye-to-eye with me. Encounters with the natural world that are this close and spontaneous always hold a bit of magic for me.

Linda was waiting at a table in the streaming sun, bathed in the halo of light, when I arrived a little late and a bit breathless at The Lazy Lobster, where we had absolutely scrumptious fresh tilapia for lunch, melt in your mouth yummy, and a good, long conversation on matters of meaning and a few bad/good movies, depending on her/my perspective. The best of times with a beloved friend. Again, it would have been enough, but the perfect day didn't end there.

When Linda needed to leave, I drove back to the mainland to pick up Bob, another dear person in my life who is living with the mid-stages of dementia, and while his mind is often very sharp, things like planning for birthdays are beyond him so I helped out a little by suggesting we go to Barnes & Noble, one of our favorite places to sit, read or hang out on a day too cool for the golf course. He had agreed that I could choose whatever and however many books I wanted. I know those of you who are also lovers of books and reading will understand the pure joy of this invitation; it was not about HAVING something in hand, but about having an experience where I could have any book I wanted, and as many as I wanted, taking as much time as I wanted to select Just.The.Right.Book. All I had to do was choose. And lovers of books know the experience is all about the choosing: picking up a book whose cover attracts you, feeling its heft, looking at the font (how large or small is it, how appealing to the eye), deciding just how much pleasure there is to be had in reading This Book, and either adding it to the list of possibilities or replacing it on the shelf in its right place for another person to find at another time. There's a ritual in choosing a new book, a little different for all of us, but definitely a pleasurable experience.

Bob and I lingered over our selections. Sometimes I found a book that I thought would please him, and we poured over its illustrations and commentary before deciding not to buy it. He wandered off on his own search for more than an hour, and I on mine. Every so often we'd see each other between the stacks and wander back to see what the other had discovered. We meandered, falling into book after book, for several hours, adding only slightly to the pile we would buy, but rich with the experience of hanging out with books. After a while, tired, we gathered up our few happily chosen books and headed for home, as full of joy as any two readers could possibly be. (I now have my winter's reading stockpiled by my bed.)

Home again, we had a simple dinner of homemade chicken soup and fresh bread. Barbara, a friend, had made warm chocolate chip cookies. Inge had sent a wonderful poem for my birthday and the new year (published elsewhere on this site). Rita, always the maker of mischief, sent a very funny email, one of those "forwards" we often love to hate. My son called and left a warm and loving message. There were birthday messages from friends and family by phone, mail and email. I even had half a dozen messages on Facebook! FACEBOOK! What has the world come to?

Later in the evening, besotted with the simple pleasure of a perfect day, I drove Bob home. As I re-entered my atrium garden from the drive to his house, I found a stunning bouquet from my dear Joan: pink roses, miniature calla lilies, and something that looks-like-but-isn't pink delphinium (or at least not like any pink delphinium I ever grew in my Northeast gardens). I feel asleep to the delicate scent of roses on January 2nd. Imagine!

Truly, truly a perfect day. Following a year where many of the days (and nights) were difficult, this was the best possible beginning for a new year and a new decade. With all my heart, I thank everyone who had a part in providing me with One Perfect Day so I can always remember what that feels like and can even, hopefully, offer it to someone else at another time. Something seeps into the bones after a day like this: the felt experience of abundance nearby, waiting, available, ready at any time I'm paying attention.

It seems important to point out that not much money was spent on creating this day, nor did many material things derive from it. That was neither the goal, nor the experience. What really happened was this:

I felt the generosity of each person and was struck with the realization that each of us, doing just the one thing that's ours to do, contributes to creating something much larger and more beautiful. We may not know it until someone tells us later just how our piece fit into the whole, but we are nevertheless one significant part of a beautiful whole. And for being that on my perfect day, I thank each of you.

Please pass it on. We all deserve a perfect day now and then.

This message has been edited. Last edited by: Meredith Jordan,