It's the Little Things

I’m thankful for the smell of wood-burning fireplaces on crisp fall nights, the dark blue sky illuminated by nothing more than the glowing moon and glistening stars. When I exhale, my breath hovers like a cloud before fading into the evening air.

I’m thankful for crunchy peanut-butter, the kind with a slick layer of oil floating across the top. Delicate effort, a gentle twist of the wrist, marries the ingredients and produces a simple spoonful of delightful indulgence.

I’m thankful for the time I get to sit on the floor of my local bookstore and step into all of the wonderful worlds imagined by other people. The scent of fresh paper, new ink and delicious prose lift off the page, making my mouth water and my pulse race.

I’m thankful for the little girl at the Ronald McDonald House who pointed out that her pink polka-dot hat matched her pink striped socks. The width of her smile, the glow of her pale cheeks, shadowed the reality of a feeding tube coming out of her nose and the chemo port on her chest.

I’m thankful for songs like Right Above It, Radioactive and Get It Over With. My hips sway as my lips part to mouth the words. The rhythm is the ride and the lyrics provide the scenery rushing past.

I’m thankful for the people who pick me up when I so desperately want nothing more than to stay down. Somehow Leslie knows exactly what to say when I am a sniveling mess, which probably explains why I otherwise let her answer my calls with “Yo, Ho.”

To a generous, thoughtful and insightful collection of people I’ll always be thankful for, Happy Thanksgiving.