I’m really bad at remembering dates, and even worse at giving gifts…
When is Earth Day anyway? I never know. I can hardly even remember what day Christmas is on. I would’ve forgotten Easter completely if it weren’t for all of the chocolate eggs.
I don’t think I’ve been explicitly reminded to observe Earth Day since elementary school. So when I think of it, I see a lot of green acrylic paint. Sometimes I envision a paper maché globe. I remember my third or fourth grade class doing a musical rendition of the children’s book “The Great Kapok Tree,” (I got to play a jaguar!) but was that even for Earth Day?
I don’t know.
So, considering that I don’t even know when Earth Day is, I will allow you to safely assume that I have no idea whatsoever as to how I’m supposed to celebrate it. Should I exchange all of the windex and clorox and lysol I have in my house for all “green” cleaning products? Should I plant a tree in my yard? Should I make a donation to Greenpeace, or maybe some kind of wildlife foundation or forest conservation type… thing? What can I do?
I don’t know.
I feel like I need to figure it out soon because rumor has it that the day is fast approaching (today? tomorrow? have I missed it already?), and I don’t really know the Earth very well. I think we can all understand how hard it is to buy gifts for virtual strangers—and I don’t think the Earth would really care for a 10 dollar gift certificate to Bath & Body Works.
So what kind of gift am I supposed to get for the Earth, this generous and deserving entity with whom I am only vaguely acquainted? What kind of gesture should I carry out in order to show my appreciation for the ground beneath my feet and the very air I breathe?
This is even harder than Mother’s Day.
I guess, maybe, I’ll just stay true to form: simple, cute and crafty. This Earth Day, I’m going to handmake the Earth a coupon book (no one ever said I was original). One coupon for a free back massage, I’ll stick a few free hugs in there, one for an ice cream date on me…
And one promise to seek an understanding of, and to wholly reciprocate all of the love, support and respect that the Earth has selflessly shown me for the rest of our complex and wonderful life together.
If the Earth hates my gesture, she can always just re-gift it and give it to the Sun on Bosses Day.
René Cousineau was born and raised in Glenwood Springs, CO. She currently lives in Boulder and is a student of fiction writing and Russian literature. She spends her time reading, cleaning, hiking, dancing, and slinging cupcakes at a local bakery/coffee shop.