GRATITUDE
“I cannot pretend I am without fear. But my predominant feeling is one of gratitude. I have loved and been loved; I have been given much and I have given something in return; I have read and traveled and thought and written. I have had an intercourse with the world, the special intercourse of writers and readers.
Above all, I have been a sentient being, a thinking animal, on this beautiful planet, and that in itself has been an enormous privilege and adventure.”
Hadley,
Like contentment or joy, I’ve come to think gratitude is one of those words you can't really appreciate until you have firsthand experience with the feeling.
Five years ago, the word sounded foreign. I rolled my eyes at its fluffy softness. But today, right here, right now, as I plop these words onto this page for you, it feels like one of the most consistent feelings in my life.
Most mornings I wake up and feel grumpy that I have to open my eyes and do things. Then, I make my way downstairs, slowly drink my coffee from my favorite mug, reclaim myself, and—maybe it’s the coffee or possibly just the familiar cozy quiet of home, but still—I am struck, consistently, by a deep sense of appreciation. For everyone I love, for this life, for everything that’s waiting for me. I don't know exactly where this came from or when it happened, but gratitude arrived and I'm glad. I'm also aware that it can leave (especially when sleep is lacking). So I try to make a habit of choosing it every day (as with all things: this is a work in progress, my love).
It's a good idea to write down the things that you’re grateful for, so you don't start to take it all for granted (to take for granted is gratitudes direct opposite). Mine today, in no particular order:
•The dentist who fixed my chipped tooth for free.
•The impromptu run-in with a favorite neighbor. •The way the sun bounces through my south facing windows at 2 pm.
•The softness of my sheets and how nice they look when my bed is made and how good it makes me feel to have—with much time and effort—become a person who makes their bed.
•The smell of lavender, tucked in these tiny white vases.
•Farm fresh eggs, rich orange yolks.
•Work that satisfies and brings joy and challenge.
•Lake Michigan, how it’s always the same and always different and right outside my window.
•The freedom to feel every feeling.
•The freedom to say yes and also no.
•The freedom to change my mind.
•Meaningful conversations.
•Meaningful friendships.
•Close relationships with kids who are not my own.
•Your parents, because they are wonderful and also because they share you and your siblings with me.
•The cup of coffee that I’m already excited to have tomorrow morning.
•Tomorrow morning.
Even when things seem hard or seriously bleak or just not going exactly your way, there’s always something to appreciate. Small things like the warmth of a mug of tea in your hand, the coolness of wind on your hot cheeks. Or, enormously, the fact that you made it through the night, despite, in those swirling hours, believing you would drown in its darkness. Your family, the gift of blood and love and shared stuff, even when they drive you insane (which they will, it’s how it works, it’s part of the beauty).
Practice noticing.
It's all around you, in all these unexpected forms.
Whether you feel what it means yet or not: I’m forever grateful for you, Hadley my love.
Aunt Liz
