For twenty-nine years, maybe more, save for two or three, due to heavy rain or a good walk spoiled by a round of golf with TT and my dad one unseasonably warm Thanksgiving day, I have taken a walk, usually around mid-day, and I spend the time in a mood of gratitude. When lucky enough to share the walk with JT, TT, or maybe even both of them, we chat of anything that comes to mind, and that is gratitude in and of itself.   It might have been another way, but since learning about the graces of a grateful life, I humble myself with gratitude whenever possible.

Today’s walk included the enjoyment of seeing chickadees resting on the bare branches of a maple tree.

I noted how low in the sky the sun was hanging and gave thanks for its light, though muted with a cloudy sky.

I saw cars parked in front of many neighbors’ homes, and though no aromas of roasting turkeys had yet found their way out of doors, I knew it would be just a matter of time, and gave thanks for a day of rest and the community of a meal shared among friends and family.

The roadways were so quiet, all I could hear was the swishing of my jacket and my feet as they met the pavement and rolled, heel to toe, as I walked and sighed with the miracle of how the body works.

Solitude continuing when meeting other walkers would be the norm, I gave thanks for being allowed to be alone, and free from loneliness, quite a feat for an extrovert like me.

For two more birds, brown and gray, whose name I do not know, sitting in a dogwood engaged in the low chatter of a private conversation.

For the car with Florida plates which passed by quietly, occupied by a couple of retirement age.  Glad to see they made it home to New England to see their family one more time, with who knows how many more opportunities awaiting them.  This, I surmised.

For greenery in pots and on front doors heralding the coming Advent.

For the upright bush in some one’s back yard, with its small yellow leaves still clinging to it, I am thankful.  At first it looked like Forsythia, maybe a cruel joke to some, but to me it is a reminder that although winter fast approaches, spring is coming right behind it at the same rate of speed.

For the two boys playing catch with a football in the front yard of my next door neighbor, and for the flash of memory of so many touch football games played between the two telephone poles on the street in front of my house, with the neighbor’s fence post being the 50-yard line, and for having a childhood filled with neighborhood friends and memories like that, worth keeping.

And now, as I shower and ready myself to spend some hours with my sister and her family, I am thankful for hot running water.  And layers to wear, since I won’t know warm her house will be.

And as I sit at her table, I will be thankful for the bounty that I can so gladly call my life.

As the table, laden with so much food, becomes our meeting place, I will stop a moment, eyes on the turkey, and give special thanks to that golden and fragrant bird, which unwittingly lived its whole life, and then sacrificed it,  in service to our sustenance.


























1 Comment

  1. Casoly said,

    November 26, 2010 at 12:35 pm

    Lovely tradition. I didn’t know you had a blog, I will return. :o) xo Hope your Thanksgiving was wonderful.

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