“This is my lucky day, Mee-Ma,” my six year old granddaughter announced. “Our class got to go swimming, I had chess club after school, and now take a look!” She proudly presented me with a bloody tooth.

“Wow, the tooth fairy is going to be busy tonight,” I said.

“I know!”

Her joy at all this good fortune was infectious. I couldn’t help thinking I could learn a lot from her example. How long had it been since I’d chronicled my “lucky days”?

Clearly, I haven’t been paying enough attention to Oprah. I don’t even keep a gratitude journal. Mostly I just fly through my days, thankful if I’ve had a chunk of time to write and decidedly unthankful when I haven’t.

Take yesterday, for example. Up at 5:30 AM and running until after eleven with wall-to-wall commitments and a dull headache. No time to mess around—I was leaving the next morning to fly to Chicago for a rare sisters’ reunion. Now that, I knew, was a lucky day—actually a lucky four days.

But when I looked closer at my harried day, I realized that was my lucky day too. Here are my three things to celebrate:

1. My husband and I talked about how much we loved each other and would miss one another, even for a four day separation. I am so damned lucky to be madly in love with this guy—and it seems to be mutual.
2. A really good multi-published writer asked me to take a look at her novel-in-progress and give her some feedback. I felt great that she actually wanted my opinion.
3. “Dr. Amanda,” my granddaughter’s dentist, went on and on about what a cheerful, cooperative patient she was (Not sure where this sunny child in our family of depressives came from, but hey, I’m not asking any questions.) Who doesn’t love hearing great stuff about their kids or grandkids?

So, there you have it. Even my crazy, harried day was a “lucky day.” In fact,

I’m blessed with lots of them. And I’m determined to become more aware and appreciative. Although… the chances of the tooth fairy dropping by my pillow are decidedly slim.