The turkey is in an electric oven at 350° after brining overnight and after spending 30 minutes in the real oven at 500°. We’re well ahead of the game (barring issues with the roasting), ready to make mashed potatoes and homemade stuffing (well, dressing, since the bird is filled only with herbs, apples and onions) and candied yams and some vegetables.
In the midst of all this, it’s odd to trot out a single day out of the year for the sole purpose of giving thanks; I find myself generally grateful and generally willing to express such whenever I have cause to.
Which is quite often—because of the love of my life, Sam, my amazing family back in Pennsylvania and in Arizona, and a very large number of very good people who are my friends.
Except it’s not just gratitude or thankfulness, two sentiments which are often aimed at a deity, but not always (obviously), it’s also a reminder.
A reminder that I should also give some credit to myself for whatever part I’ve played in being surrounded by such astounding happiness. I know that I am one of the things that Sam, family and friends are grateful for, and I must remind myself to keep earning that place in their lives.
Holding in high value the qualities of decency, trust, mercy, compassion, vigilance and empathy got me here, to my place in the world, full of love and laughter and caring-for. And though the rest of the world may rail and rage contrarily at me, at my family, at my friends, even at my kind, that is but flotsam in the deluge of Good Things that is my life.