Gifts

Every day
is the anniversary
of something,
our lives a potpourri
of past occasions
left to dry in memory.

We traverse
the calendar of our lives
like a game of hopscotch,
dipping into pockets
for a means to play the game
and one day finding chocolates,
the next bitter almonds, 
one made sweeter by that other
that is made more bearable
by the promise of  its opposite.

Today is the anniversary
of seventy-two other days
that added to the rest of the days
granted me by a generous fate,
add up to 26,403
 anniversaries
and a life that daily 
has been given to me
like a present
whose contents
I get to choose.

Prompts for today are anniversary,potpourri, generous, traverse and chocolate.