Staff Column: Every day is a favorite day

By Staff Writer Mansi Mundada

“What day is it?” Pooh asked. “Today,” Piglet squeaked. “My favorite day!” Pooh said. I left a like on the post and scrolled past it. “That’s so corny,  how can a day be a favorite if you haven’t accomplished something?” I thought as I closed Instagram to check my schedule for the day. As a freshman, I didn’t see much value in the quote because it didn’t fit into the way I saw time — to me, days were just hours to be filled with schedules, activities, and deadlines. If I wasn’t filling every hour with something productive — studying, extracurriculars, or plans with friends — I felt like I was wasting time, while everyone around me was accomplishing something important.

That day, one of the many plans on my list was to volunteer for the first time at a hospice. I was very nervous — unsure what to expect and what it would feel like to meet and talk to someone on their deathbed. The patient I was assigned to was bedridden and had oxygen tubes running across her nose. When I walked up and introduced myself, she glanced at me and smiled slightly before turning away again. I started making small talk as I had planned, but she didn’t respond. I began to doubt whether she was listening to me or even aware of my presence.  Not sure what else to do, I started looking around the room and commented on the many paintings that hung on the walls. As I said goodbye, I began to wonder whether I had simply just wasted half an hour, but as I was a few feet from the door, she asked, “Will you visit me again?” I turned back to look at her, surprised that she had actually been listening all this time. I quickly answered yes, then left the room stunned.

As I walked out of her room into the hallway, her words lingered in my head. I thought I  hadn’t done much in that half an hour beyond passing time and being there, yet her words made me realize that to her,  my presence was more important than words. I never thought that something so insignificant to me could bring so much comfort to someone. 

My thoughts were interrupted by a faint squeaking sound as the rubber tips of a walker rubbed against the floor. I saw a lady walking slowly ahead of me, and for a moment, I thought about squeezing past her to get to the next plan on my list, but then I stopped myself. I started thinking about how I often rush towards the next thing to do, rarely stopping to slow down. I was always focused on what I should do rather than what was around me. But the patients here might not get a tomorrow to worry about: their days are limited; all they have is the here and now.

As I continued to volunteer, the atmosphere in the hospice began to feel different. It was calm and peaceful in a way I wasn’t used to. In the hospice, time seemed to slow down; there were no rushing footsteps and sense of urgency that pressed upon me like there was when I was at school. Every time I went, I saw residents looking out the window with a peaceful look on their face or sitting in the garden simply enjoying the sunlight and flowers. Watching them, I started realizing that the value in a day doesn’t lie in what we accomplish, but in how we choose to experience it.

Pooh’s quote, which once seemed simple and silly, now truly resonates with me. It serves as a reminder of how important it is to appreciate the present rather than worry about tomorrow. Pooh’s idea of “today” doesn’t mean to ignore the past or the future, but that every day has the potential to be your favorite day if you take the time to slow down and be in the moment. Volunteering at the hospice reminds me that a day doesn’t become meaningful only when it’s filled with important things to do — even unplanned moments, however small, can bring meaning to a day.