gratitude again

Every so often I sink into an abyss. My tumble is often triggered by clusters of my son’s seizures, all of which make me fear for the worst. Perhaps you can imagine. When this happens, my innards feel heavy, my surroundings harsh. Even bright sunlight knifes me, the shadows it casts longer and sharper because of its acute winter angle. Inevitably, something yanks me out of the hole, gives me hope, and I can begin to feel gratitude again, or perhaps it's gratitude itself which lifts me up. Here are some things I’m grateful for these days:

Happy boy. Spicy margarita aside a newish friend. A sweet drunk seated to my right. Our home. Lobster. Seizure free afternoons. Remedy. Cannabis flower and coconut oil. Dimmers. Charity. Rolling fires. Michael’s work. Home invasions of a particular kind. Furry dog, sweet dog. Hubby. Thick sweaters. Andy Borowitz. Going commando. Lamb. Photos from our wedding. Grandpa’s tavern lamps alit. Clocks. Books. Curiosity. Old friends. Writing. New friends. Calamari and kimchi. Getting to know someone. Liquid fabric mender. David Bowie. Rubber boots I can just slip my feet into. Expletives. My octogenarian friends. First boots for Calvin. A beautiful winter garden. Dinner guests on the way. Beth. Five dollar down pillows. Joni Mitchell in ways you could never imagine. Our wonderful POTUS. The Onion. Seat warmers. Art. Scotch broth. Artists. Good laughs. Dinner at someone else's house. Irreverence. Strange panoramas that expand space. Thoughts of spring. Nicole's yellow cake with chocolate whipped cream frosting. The feel of Calvin’s skin.

Photo by Michael Kolster


  1. What an absolutely beautiful garden!

    Yellow cake with chocolate whipped cream frosting sounds wonderful.

  2. That photo is just transporting! I wish so much to visit you and Michael and Calvin in your beautiful neck of the woods. In the meantime, though, sometimes when you write it's like hearing my own voice -- far, far away, yes, but right next to me, a kindred soul.