Everyone is thankful for something. Even on the day of Thanksgiving, when 40 members of your family are talking loud, complaining about the food temp, and wondering “out loud” if the serving dish used for stuffing belongs to them. As much as my family and close friends may test the limit of my nerves, I still say a silent prayer of thanks. It’s not a prayer you are familiar with I’m sure. In the chaos of the holidays before I let myself utter or think, “THIS IS THE LAST TIME I’M COOKING THANKSGIVING!” I stop (obsessing), drop (the attitude), and roll (add Parker House to my grocery list) and instead say, “Thank you.”
Thank you for a husband who helps with everything and doesn’t complain about it (to me anyway). Who doesn’t mind coming in second to so many things; work, kids, friends, sisters, the housewives of BRAVO TV, dad. Who just like me rolls his eyes when people talk about “soul mates.” Because it’s more important for us to simply be “mates.” We can save the soul part for the afterlife. We’ve built a life together. It took us a while to finish the foundation but when we did. The rest just sort of fell into place. So I give thanks to the man who doesn’t always agree with my liberal thinking, but doesn’t try to change it. The man who reminds me (sometimes on a daily basis) that just because one day is bad doesn’t mean tomorrow will be.
Thank you for a 17 year old who still talks to me and talks back to me. A boy/man who is trying to find his way and his identity. And a boy who still let’s his mama run the bases with him when life throws a curve ball his way.
Thank you for an almost 13 year old who is so much smarter than all of us but doesn’t rub it in. My youngest babe who makes very grown up observations like, “You know the “E” means you should stop and get gas?” or “Why are you always trying to lose weight? You don’t need to.” Oh! And he still loves to snuggle while watching “Elf” this time of year.
Thank you for my sisters and brothers. Those connected by blood or connected through life. Without a single one of them this island of misfit toys wouldn’t be fun at all.
Thank you for my mother-in-law. Yes, you read that right. I’m thankful that she accepts me for who I am, messy kitchen and all.
Thank you for the dementia that changes our dynamic on a daily basis. It’s not always fun. There are days when I’d love to stay in bed, watch bad reality television and post anonymous messages on political websites. But instead, I listen intently as dad tells me about how he met mom during the 1961 fall quarter at Western Carolina University. And for a moment I wonder if this is real. Maybe it’s not as bad as the neurologist says. Then he sits to eat his soup with a butter knife. No big deal. I hand him a spoon, we giggle and he reads Jon Saraceno’s latest. We go on. And so does life. Because while he will inevitably forget many things, his family will remember for him.
So for these things and so many more, I’m truly thankful.
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