Thankful for the ordinary,
the mundane Mondays we drift through,
words we won’t remember. Yet never forget.
For lime green post its onto which
I have miles of lists to make, to keep.
Thankful for that which annoys me,
rain splashing against my windshield
that reminds me I am inside. Warm and dry.
For long commutes are our routines
and in each journey lies a purpose.
Thankful for dark times of mourning,
the life of an old friend taken
because I know she loved me well. And I her.
For grief that cuts us open while
reminding us we are alive. Alive!
Thankful for the quiet weeping,
which comes at last when it’s needed
to wash away the despair. And the heartache.
For silent tears, a cleansing balm
often we didn’t know we needed.
Thankful for the deafening silence,
the peaceful solitude in which
we can hear our own heartbeats. And those we love.
For the stillness of autumn wood
and a home settling into slumber.
Thankful for all the memories,
precious and not, that call us back,
a chipped turkey platter. And fine Haviland.
For they remind me whose I was
and who I am and where I come from.
Thankful for my children’s voices,
those close and far away that are
as precious to me as air. As life itself.
For they are my people and all,
All! that I will ever want or need.
Thankful for blasts of frigid air,
the brevity of winter days, that
make us long for sunlight. And summer picnics.
For brittle leaves and frosty grass
that will give way to the grace of Spring.
Thankful for faith in things unseen,
in myself, in God, in others
that makes me know, believe. In what’s possible.
For glimpses of magnificence
in all that is around me daily.
Thankful for this important day
once a year, to breathe it all in,
to voice what’s on my heart. But yet unspoken.
For moments dancing in my head,
whispering, singing, life is so good.