I know we have a boatload of things to be thankful for this year. We are a lot closer to the top of the 99% than the bottom of the 99%. We have had nothing but routine encounters with the American Healthcare System this year (although I did field a call late one evening from Davis asking how he might tell if his collarbone was broken. . . I described. . . he self-diagnosed that he was sore, but fine). We have
The true moment of realization didn't come on Tuesday when my sister arrived to help with Thanksgiving Day preparation (appreciated!) or on Wednesday when I filled the house with the spicy smell of pies and cookies or on Thursday when Davis arrived safely and we shared our meal with about forty folks. Friday was good, too, but not the day that I realized how thankful I was.
Thanks settled in around us on Saturday morning, and we received the gifts and blessings we needed. First, we had a gentle, steady rain. You can't understand what that means unless you have ever been 20 inches behind for the year, staring at a lake in your backyard that looks like the surface of the moon. Then, each of had our own special thing. Katherine got to sleep in, without guilt or interruption. Walter got to putter around in his shed with no real deadline or urgent item in his inbox (he also got to make Davis's plane reservation for his trip home at Christmas!). My mom settled in with her new beads (donated crystals and lampwork beads from a new friend near Franklin) to do what she does best: create. Davis and I fitted ourselves on to the living room sofa in between the dogs, tuned in the Manchester United/Newcastle match, and worked a jigsaw puzzle.
There were no chores hanging over anyone's heads. No meetings, conference calls, or stacks of papers to grade. We had leftovers if anyone was hungry. We had each other. That did it for me. Complete. Total. Thankfulness. Enough for me.