I read a wonderful book not too long ago called One Day by David Nicholls. One Day is the story of Emma and Dexter who meet for the fist time on the night of their college graduation. Choice and circumstance force them to go their separate ways the day after they meet. Readers follow the trajectory their lives take from that fateful moment to where Emma and Dexter find themselves on that one day twenty years later.

After recovering from the hangover that all good/funny/heartrending stories leave me with, I realized that Nicholls’ book left me with something else. It made me think about my own paper chain of days and consider if I had already had my own “one day,” that one moment where the course of my life was altered forever.

Having more than thirteen thousand days to choose from made that somewhat difficult. Was it the day I was born? Was it the day I got married? Was it the day I sold my car, bought a plane ticket to Europe and stuffed my backpack with a borrowed copy of “Frommer’s Europe on $50 a day?” It seemed like an impossible choice. To make such a decision would mean deeming one day more important than another. Did my life change more the first time I gave birth than the second?

I also wondered if such a day had to be memorable. Might it not be a day filled with tiny nothings? Did spilling my coffee on my shirt yesterday and leaving ten minutes later than usual save my life? Did flossing two seconds faster last night doom me?

In the end, I found that as objective as I tried to be, it was impossible to weigh one day versus another. Each was inextricably linked to the next – which made me think: What if our “one day” was not “a” day, but every single one that we live? What if we steered the course of the rest of our life from the moment we yawned, woke up, and stretched our hands over our head? Would the day look, feel, smell or taste different?

What does your day taste like so far and what are you planning to do with it?