It’s a rainy Tuesday morning here in Indianapolis. It’s a soft drizzle, a gentle whisper of a rain — the kind that shines the leaves on the trees and kisses the petals of roses to gently wake them from their overnight slumber.

Headlights swoon by as if on a rail cart in tight formation quickly pushing through stoplights before the bulb turns orange and then red, pausing the hustle and bustle offering a moment for walkers and joggers and baby mommers to readily speed through the crosswalk to the office, coffee shop or the park to view the glistening leaves on the trees and watch the flowers wake up while the many birds perform their vocal range.

Puddles lie in wait for a bright star approximately 93 million miles away to illuminate the grey sky and evaporate the remains atop the pavement.

And here we sit, watching, waiting, breathing, anticipating the day, pacing back and forth like a lion in a cage itching for his breakfast or a tiger on the hunt for her prey.

What shall we do today? Oh, the possibilities — perhaps we’ll see a Twilight Zone-like alien invasion of people with three arms and an extra eye infiltrating the city zapping innocent by-standers with superhuman mental strength followed by physical strength just to experiment with their decision making ability and finally put to rest the theories involving Area 51.

Perhaps you will begin that great American novel, or kick start that business about which you have been dreaming and describing friends and relatives for the past two years.

Maybe today is the day you decide to finish that degree or embark on a new career leaving behind all the expectations which handcuffed you long ago.

Yesterday is gone, in the books, and we can fit nothing else into that chapter. If you are reading this — not only are you a well informed individual, but you made it through the many diverse challenges lurking around every corner.

This is the day, and now it is time for you to grasp that Mont Blanc with style and then some, and smooth that clean, empty, blank canvas awaiting you, asking, ”What would you like to write today?”

What shall we do?

We could scale the mountain, swim the Chanel, or explore the cave. We could mend that fence, build the relationship, and turn the page. We could rise and grind or chill and coffee. We could make some more dough or philanthropize a different charity.

Yesterday is history, and tomorrow is a mystery.

Today is a gift, which is why it’s called the present. What shall we do with today? Well that, my friend, is entirely up to you, but then again ... that’s just my humble opinion.

Toby Baker is a family man and eclectic style guru.

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