This Day

This day should be every day.

I knew a guy whose first words, every morning before his feet hit the bedside floor, were Thank you Thank you Thank you.

I should’ve asked him what he was grateful for, back when he was sitting next to me in his underwear.

We were watching a Miami Heat game in his hotel room. I don’t remember the city, but his daughter, Skye, was there, too. We all were in town speaking at a weekend conference, and he was the event headliner. Skye and I had dropped by his room to say goodnight, and he invited us in to watch the second half of the…