It was a splendid summer morning and it seemed as if nothing

Hear the words of John Cheever, who painted with his pen the delicate beauty of life’s fleeting moments: “It was a splendid summer morning and it seemed as if nothing could go wrong.” These words, though simple, carry within them the eternal rhythm of hope and fragility. For in them we see both the brilliance of the present and the shadow that always follows joy—the reminder that life is never fixed, but flows like a river, calm one moment, storm-tossed the next.

The phrase splendid summer morning calls to mind more than weather; it is the symbol of youth, of promise, of the hour when everything is fresh and full of possibility. In such moments, the soul believes itself safe, untouched by misfortune. Yet Cheever, a master of the ordinary turned profound, reminds us that such security is fragile. The very belief that nothing could go wrong is both the essence of joy and the seed of illusion. For life is never so still as to promise certainty.

In this way, Cheever’s words echo the warnings of the ancients. The Greeks, who spoke often of hubris, knew well that when men believed themselves untouchable, fate often humbled them. A clear sky could suddenly summon a storm, and a prosperous house could collapse in ruin. Yet, they also knew that such mornings—the splendid, golden ones—are not to be shunned, but cherished. They teach us to drink deeply from the cup of the present, while remembering that the hand of fortune is ever-turning.

History gives us many examples. Think of Franz Ferdinand, heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne, who began the morning of June 28, 1914, in bright spirits, believing his day would be a ceremonial passage through Sarajevo. The sun shone, the crowds cheered—and within hours, he was dead, his assassination sparking the First World War. That splendid morning seemed invincible, yet in its shadow lurked the upheaval of nations. His story, like Cheever’s words, teaches us the fragility of life’s brightest hours.

Yet we must not read this quote only as a warning. There is also a hymn within it: the ability to stand in the midst of beauty and feel, even for a moment, that nothing could go wrong. Such moments are gifts. The laughter of children in a sunlit garden, the stillness of dawn by the sea, the warmth of a hand held in love—all are fragments of eternity, where the soul rests and believes itself safe. These moments, though impermanent, nourish us and give us strength to face the storms that inevitably follow.

The deeper meaning is this: life is woven of both mornings of peace and nights of trial. To despise the fragile beauty of a perfect day because it cannot last would be folly. To cling to it as if it will last forever is also folly. The wise learn instead to hold such beauty lightly, to cherish it while it is here, and to remember it when darkness comes. In this balance lies wisdom.

The lesson for us, then, is clear. When you are blessed with a splendid morning, do not pass it by in haste or distraction. Do not dismiss it as ordinary. Pause. Breathe it in. Acknowledge its perfection, however fleeting. And when hardship comes, remember those mornings as proof that joy is possible, that life is not only struggle but also radiance.

The practical action is this: each day, seek to notice one “splendid morning” moment, however small—a bird’s song, the warmth of the sun, the smile of a stranger. Give thanks for it, even if it lasts but a heartbeat. For by training the heart to honor such beauty, you will learn to carry light even in times of shadow. And so Cheever’s simple line becomes a teaching for the ages: that the radiance of life lies not in its permanence, but in its fleeting, fragile glory.