I got caught up in the events of Thanksgiving and did not get anything written over the long weekend. I do have some thoughts I want to share here and would really like yours in return.

I have a lot to be thankful for, but to tell the truth, I kinda want people to be thankful to me. I want to be the one who gives and not takes. However, if my friends and family and especially those who I do not even know were not there for me, I would not be in the place I am today. It is a good place I have a great daughter, who still is my light when all is dark, I live in a fine house on a knoll overlooking the beautiful mountains of Western North Carolina.

Yet I still have to say, “Thank you” more than, “Your welcome.” It is not that I want to exert power of others, I don’t feel the need to control what others do. I am not interested telling others what they can and cannot do. I do however, want to return favors to others. Believe it or not, I like to do little things for others. I am a very selfish person, you see. I crave the feeling I get when someone smiles when I have done something nice for them. When my little Runtyun smiles and the sides of her eyes crinkle and gleam at me, I am the richest person in the world. When I step out-of-the-way for an older person to get out of the rain, and they wave an acknowledgment, I know I have done a good thing. I have tried to infuse that ideal in my daughter, and it seems to have worked. I see her do something to help someone and I know that I had something to do with it. These are things I do naturally. I can thank my parents for that.  But I want to do more.

Early Thanksgiving morning, I started a laundry and neatened the house. While I was looking around the house, dusting and moving a pile of stuff from one place to another, doing a dirty dish or two, you know getting ready for the family to come over and enjoy some time together, I started to think about how sucky my life is. What could I do that would be any good? Look at the pathetic attempts at living a “normal” life I have made. (I’m not looking for sympathy here. Nor do I need to be told that I am doing SOOO well. I know where I am in life’s competition to be better than the next guy.) What is more important to me, most of what I saw in that house were things that were given to me. A melange of cast offs and thrift store things that merely denoted my self-worth.

It was cold out while I was hanging our laundry, while this litany of self-pity reverberated around my vacuous brain and contemplating my lot. Then I took a breath and removed my head from my @ss and looked around at the world that I have the privilege to live in. The sky was the deep blue of the ocean without a single cloud island to be seen. When I came outside I heard rustling leaves and thought is was just a squirrel. Then I saw the big doe eyes of a mother deer with her fawns looking at me. I moved and she snuffed and they all leapt gracefully into the underbrush, leaving only the sound of whispering leaves. The air was fresh, my skin goose-bumped from a wisp of wind. I opened my senses a little to the world around me and heard the rustling of branches, the song of a some bird I do not know, even the knocking of a wood-pecker finding its breakfast. The smell of fall, the decaying leaves, musk of deer, even the slight oder of a skunk wafted through my musing. I took a deep breath, looked around and finally felt my shoulders ease.

Yes, I thought, it is a beautiful to be here during this moment. Yet still nagging me was the thought that I need to do good in some way that is more…more…


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