Thanksgiven

Lately, I’ve been taking inventory of the stuff that bothers me. I’m underpaid, tired, overweight, and have no time to myself. Over the last few weeks, I’ve spent hours considering the details of each predicament, easily abandoning finer thoughts of things that bring me joy. Like many slopes, this is a slippery one. It doesn’t take long until most moments are shadowed in discontent.

Sounds dramatic I know, but a few days ago something simple interrupted my bender of self-pity.  My Grandmother knocked on my door at seven AM. She’s been doing this now for the last several weeks. Every Thursday she makes her way to my house to look after my son while I’m at work.

She has a quiet little routine she performs each time she comes into the house. She sets up her coffee and paper, checks in on my son, and then stands at the door as I leave, well wishing and locking up. This week as I stepped onto the patio I paused and realized how loved I felt and how grateful I am that my son lives at the center of a world where such wonderful people treasure him.

Each year at about this time my family gathers for Thanksgiving. Sometimes the tradition of sharing our appreciation for people or things in our life creates an awkward tension at the table; a pressure to produce a genuine moment of thanks on cue. While moments like this usually occur under more spontaneous conditions for me, this year I won’t struggle.

I am now living in a state of gratitude. I am thankful for my father who takes my son on long walks of discovery, my mother who showers him with love at bath time, my brother and his family that set many happy examples, and my wife for more reasons than I can mention. So many have contributed to the happiness of my son. For aunts that rearrange their work schedules and spend day after day fawning over my boy and for last minute grandmother babysitters…I am truly grateful.

It’s so hard to linger in the shadows with so many lighting the way… Thank you.