Thanksgiving

It seems a bit counterintuitive, but these past couple of years, filled with news I'd rather not hear (both personal and out in the world), have heightened my awareness of all the good there is in my life. And so, I give thanks.

I give thanks for my people. The meal train page I set up to get me through the six-week recovery period from my latest surgery filled up immediately. Everyone who signed up delivered. It was a parade of delicious food, chosen and prepared (or, ordered and picked up) with love.

My people have walked my dog, cleaned up my leaves, and sent me 'hang-in-there-you've-got-this' gifts. They keep reaching out to let me know I'm missed and to make sure I'm doing all right.

I give thanks for the beautiful neighborhood where I get to live. I walk with Sylvester twice a day, and every time I set foot out the door, Beauty waves, trying to catch my attention. He likes to walk in the park that's just a few blocks away, and when time permits, I like to let him. 

There is a tree there, an oak that was mature before I was born. When we walk by, I try to take time to stop and lean against her trunk for a few minutes. I breathe. I listen. She is old and wise and gives good counsel. She doesn't speak in words, but when I straighten back up to continue on my way I always stand a little taller; my problems are cut a tad bit smaller.

I give thanks for lattes. Worth getting out of bed for.

I give thanks for all the researchers who came up with the medical advances and treatments that let me say "treatable" when I tell people my cancer and Kate's have both returned to set us on a new path. Treatable is huge, and most people whose cancer returns don't get to use the word - my heart aches for them. Their path could be mine. It might very well one day be mine. But for today, it is not mine.

I give thanks for the art class I took fourteen years ago. It woke up the inner voice that convinced me to jump out of my comfort zone and into my camper van. I gave up my routines, my job security, and the house I'd worked so hard to restore. In return, I gained a storehouse full of memories of beauty. They can't be tallied in an accounting book, but I've not regretted the tradeoff. Not for a minute.

I wouldn't have thought the blog I started then, as a way to let the people at home follow along on my adventure, would still exist, an ongoing chronicle of my days. Yet, here we are.

A story isn't truly a story until it is shared, and so I am thankful for you, the person reading these words - you complete the circle.

Happy Thanksgiving!