thankful

I think everything just may be perfect. The strength in my legs to walk up hills and run in circles and fit into pants from two years ago. Things full of love, like baked brie and bridal bouquets made of ferns and pine cones, and homemade Chinese food and board games. The husband who aces his nursing tests and aces his husband tests and who at this very moment is engrossed in making a big batch of chili while wearing surgical gloves. I have a comfortable home, albeit a small one. I have friends to make me laugh and to laugh with me, who shriek and run toward a playground against the wind chill and clamor and swing. I can share a cup of coffee and conversation that lasts for two hours. I have a mother who is overwhelmingly comforting to me and who can explain my differences by matching them up to her own. I have old friends and new friends and a book club and an adventure club and a yarn club and I live in a place where I can stand in the middle of a field for fifteen minutes watching a cloud of starlings hum from tree to tree overhead. I have podcasts like Ask Me Another and My Brother, My Brother, and Me, and Stuff You Should Know and Welcome to Nightvale to keep me fed, and a freezer full of actual foods to keep me actual fed. I have a job that I love, not despite things, because of them. I have exuberance running through my veins and on top of all of this, it is Thanksgiving week, and there is very little better I can imagine than getting to sit around a full, warm table full of my entire, inimitable family and sharing a purposeful, joyful meal. Also, having 2.5 days off of work. I LOVE this season, even counting my wind-burned cheeks, and I am beyond grateful for the steady, level head on my shoulders and the fact that I am whole, hale, and absolutely alive.