I just got finished reading a short essay I liked.

Lisa Kelly wrote the essay, “The Gift of the Ordinary,”based on a small snippet of life she glimpsed when she went to visit her mother in the hospital. At 84, her mother’s heart was problematic and doctors were working to stabilize it.What Lisa noticed was that her mother and the other seriously ill patients weren’t talking about wanting a miracle to regain their health. Instead, they expressed longing for being able to do ordinary things.“The patients wanted to cuddle up and get a good night’s sleep in their own beds, take a shower, cook themselves breakfast, go to the grocery store and walk the dog,” Lisa wrote.“When faced with not being able to do these supposedly mundane tasks, they suddenly become the greatest desires of our hearts.”I can relate to all that because it’s exactly what I experienced in the hospital after serious neurosurgery. Although it was decades ago, I can remember each detail as if it happened a few hours ago.As I lay connected to wires and unable to move while being monitored for days after the surgery, I vividly recall longing to be able to grab my shoulder bag and go for a walk. (To tell the truth going for a walk with my shoulder bag was my second wish. My first wish was that I could have something good to eat. We could only have clear broth until we were deemed to be stable.)I know the speed of my recovery was definitely miraculous. I also know it affected me for the rest of my life.I can no longer take the simplest thing for granted. Being able to cook a meal or being able to go for a walk are among the simple pleasures for which I give still give thanks on a daily basis.When you go through something serious like that and then go on to regain your “normal life,” you realize all of life is extraordinary.When I talked with patients in a similar circumstances, they said they believed the awe and wonder of being given another day of life would disappear over time.For me, it never has and I am thankful.If I’m not feeling all that great and am in need of comfort, I can find that comfort in the very smallest of things. The feel of soft fleece next to my body, warm covers when I go to bed – those little comforts don’t pass unnoticed.Lisa Kelly concludes her essay with this thought: “The everyday completely routine act of living is truly a gift.”I agree wholeheartedly.I don’t need to gaze at the Grand Canyon, the Eiffel Tower or the Leaning Tower of Pisa to feel awe at such majesty. I feel that awe when I watch the smallest of birds, when I see the colorful ducks in the lagoon behind my house, or when I see the amazing variety of snail shells I find in my garden.At the beach, as I watch the tide roll in and out and listen to the mesmerizing sound of the water lapping on the shore, I am awed by everything I see — by the wonder and the beauty in front of me.Shore birds hunt for food, schools of tiny fish go by and the majestic blue herons I love prance by. It’s all wondrous, all beautiful.How can one sit by the shore any season of the year and not be moved by all that beauty and majesty? No matter how many times I see it, I am aware of the gift of being by the sea.I think the hospital patients Lisa Kelly talked with mentioned physical things they wished they could do, not things they wanted to see again. They longed to do simple things again.I know the joy of doing simple things. Every single morning I start my day by going for a walk. Part of it is to get more physical activity. But a greater reason for that morning walk is to start the day by appreciating the gift of another day and to thank the Creator of it all.Did you ever notice how the sky looks different every single day? Some mornings the sun outlines the clouds in silver light. Today I watched storm clouds moving quickly, knowing I might get wet before I ended my walk. But when you’re dressed for it, even a walk in the rain is invigorating.The simple truth is activity, even routine activity, feels good. The hospital patients who could no longer have that routine activity felt the loss keenly.At the end of each blessed ordinary day, I like to fall asleep by thinking of the three simple blessings I had that day.Usually, there are many from which to choose because every single day has many gifts.The trick is to be aware of those gifts while they are ours to have.Every ordinary day is indeed a gift.Contact Pattie Mihalik at

newsgirl@comcast.net.