Another Day: Thank yourself for keeping on

My inbox staggers under the weight of Mother's Day promotions for gifts, restaurant specials and, I swear, cruises.I do look forward to a low-key salute; our children will call or text, or show up for dinner within the next month (you know who you are.) However sweet it is to teach children gratitude, I believe we could use a more inclusive yet commemorative day. 

So, I made one up.

I hereby declare the Monday after Mother's Day Another Day, a day that celebrates simply persevering, doing what has to be done regardless of role, sex, or status. It's Another Day, and you're here? Rock on!

On Another Day (this year, May 12) you thank yourself, which does not necessarily involve buying, but a treat does buck one up, and when else can you celebrate showing up every blessed day?

What would I choose on the inaugural Another Day?

1. A Kotn viscose mesh t-shirt. Cool in all senses of the word, this symbolizes Another Days' celebration of strength and constancy and besides, it's chic. (And not see-through.) Shown in Sunstar Red; price, $CDN 88.  

2. The plushly-petalled peony is the official flower. In the language of flowers, its long roots symbolize stability and endurance.

I know florists who sell peonies, and pass plenty unfurling in gardens, but could also order a spray of three delicate white silk blooms from Silk Plant Decor and More (pack of three, $CDN 45).

3. There is a treatment called an Indian Oil Scalp Massage, as close to pure bliss in a treatment as it gets, an hour of luxurious relaxation. The cost will vary depending on where you are; you may be lucky and find a bargain session with a student at a massage therapy school that teaches Ayurvedic techniques, or spend around $100 at a massage studio that offers the service and I promise it's worth it.

4. Another Day is just that, yet at the same time unique, because each day is different and precious— our days are numbered. Celebrate it through a simple activity you have done many times, but is restorative, for example, taking the dog to a favourite park or sitting on a bench and watching the light shift on the trees. 

Curl up somewhere peaceful and read, holding a real book.

I turn to poetry to summon perseverance, dented lately by so much loss. This is Wendell Barry's "What We Need is Here":

Horseback on Sunday morning,
harvest over, we taste persimmon
and wild grape, sharp sweet
of summer's end. In time's maze
over fall fields, we name names
that rest on graves. We open
a persimmon seed to find the tree
that stands in promise,
pale, in the seed's marrow.
Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye,
clear. What we need is here.

Happy Another Day, a little in advance.