Many days I list at least one (sometimes up to six) distinct thing(s) for which I’m grateful. The list is archived monthly. Here’s April 2015.
I’m grateful for the story my new seamstress began telling me within fifteen seconds of our having met. The way we stood together weeping. Beaded appliqués and swaddling clothes. A time to sew and a time to rip seams. Expert hands.
I’m grateful for Susannah Conway and her April Love photo challenge.
I’m grateful for two dear friends who gave me an opportunity to try something new last month: copyediting for (gasp!) pay. That the experience showed me where my real focus resides: in writing fiction.
I’m grateful for my writing group, women who I can turn to with my work and all my neuroses. A slightly painful incident that reminded me of how much I value kind sensitivity. Having time to devote to self-care.
I’m grateful for the decision to return to Project Gratitude. The power of daily rituals, and being reminded that I need at least one.
I’m grateful for an afternoon with an old mate from 28 years ago. Her nurturing spirit. Balboa Island. The one dollar ferry ride.
I’m grateful for my rich community of fabulous women.
I’m grateful for a walk to the post office. For my legs and feet and shoes and toes. For the air in my lungs, and the air about ready to be in my lungs. Get in my lungs, air!
I’m grateful for this inhale of oxygen. The long exhale through my nose. Now this inhale. The long exhale through my mouth. Now. Again. And again.
I’m grateful for the times when Ruby and Ellie eat their meals and use their litter box. Those puppy pee pads with NASA-like diaper technology, and Ellie’s strange psychology that prompts her to sometimes pee on them instead of anywhere else in the apartment when she refuses the litter box.
I’m grateful for central heating and the afghan and a day of rain.
I’m grateful for the question, “What is your Super Power?”.
I’m grateful for the invitation to visit a friend going through a painful transition. The ability to buy treats for her. The moment when I walked up to her home holding the grocery bag filled with a bouquet of flowers and goodies, and saw our mutual girlfriend round the corner also holding a grocery bag filled with a bouquet of flowers and goodies. Merging our flowers into a giant vase. Red gerbera daisies and yellow roses.
I’m grateful for my family (the one of origin and the one we’re merging with).
I’m grateful for Upper Cut Cabernet Sauvignon (so! yummy!). Dictionaries. Cool air, bright sun, spring flowers. A nice walk to the bagel shop. Fresh baked bagels. The way Andy protected me from that horrible noise pollution rushing through our apartment closing each of the windows. Each of the windows.
I’m grateful for brunch with a writing friend. Cafe Laurent’s sweet garden patio. Au gratin dauphinois!
I’m grateful for my teeth. Auto mechanics. Part numbers. Seating charts. Tree bark. Cat fur. Telephones.
I’m grateful for dinner out with some new good friends. Hearing T.C. Boyle talk about writing. Bergamot Station.
I’m grateful I gave myself permission to skip all the panels at the book fest in favor of savoring a delicious lunch with my journal. Trout, Pinot Grigio and a side of O. Henry Prize Stories 2014, just in case.
I’m grateful for Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and her stories, and Holly Goddard Jones and her stories, and Maile Meloy and her stories.
I’m grateful for fingernail clippers and electric mixers, for slippers with traction and warm washcloths.