I took these pictures on a good day this week.

A typical atypical day: get up before 7 (but not as early as I should), wake the kids, get them breakfast, shower (win! I don’t always make that one), get out the door before 8, sign paperwork and drop children off, park and walk ¼ mile to my office, make coffee, work.

I work a half day Wednesdays, and had a kid with a dentist’s appointment. So I picked everyone up early from school, tried to entertain the 5-year-old while answering judgy questions about my 8-year-old’s flossing habits (is flossing scientifically supported anymore?) and listening to all the very important school news the 7-year-old was whispering, forgot to go to the pharmacy on the way home, forgot to get gas on the way home, got home and spent 4 hours cleaning kids’ bedrooms, pulled dinner from the crock pot…

It was a good day because I got dinner in the crockpot before we left in the morning. I had time for a shower. I didn’t have to take time off work for the dentist. I didn’t run out of gas on the way home and I hadn’t yet run out of the prescription online needed to refill. I had energy to clean the bedrooms. Everyone liked and ate dinner.

My life is so tightly chinked together that a hiccup at any point (someone can’t find their shoes, there are too many red lights, I did need the prescription) can throw everything off. I don’t have the leeway for five lost minutes or for dumb mistakes, and they still happen.

Accepting the things I can’t control is challenging. Perhaps harder is figuring out what to try to troubleshoot (a better way to keep track of shoes) and what to let go (obsessing over the route I took is probably not helping).

Maybe there are always bits of the day that go well and bits that don’t. Maybe it’s the overall balance that matters, not everything going right all day.

Or maybe the secret to a good day is much more subtle. Maybe it’s more about noticing those patches of light and taking a moment to savor them.

And maybe the darkness isn’t all bad either.