My plan was to write these “grateful” blog posts in the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving, which obviously I did not. My plan was also to write about just one idea in every post. But as I was running the annual Turkey Trot up here in Boothbay Harbor, Maine (where we spend our Thanksgivings) yesterday, I was flooded with thoughts about why I’m grateful, starting with all those cheerful people out facing the pelting, wet snow. One dressed as a pilgrim. Everybody smiling.

So I decided that this time around I’d write about some of the things I was thinking about as I made my way into town, back over the footbridge and, finally, back into the YMCA parking lot, before we gathered with friends over hot toddies for our annual, frigid, football game (which I never play) then over cocktails and heated political talk (even though we were all arguing the same points) for an amazing Thanksgiving dinner, then sat by the roaring fire, letting our stomachs settle, but also heading back into the kitchen to secretly eat more pie right out of the pan.

I am grateful for all of that. I am grateful for all of that, and so much more.

My crazy dog, despite the fact that when we were getting another dog (even though J said he “wasn’t ready” for another dog, but I interpreted that as him never being ready for another dog, since he’s not really a dog person, and got one anyway) I said that what I wanted was a super chill dog, the kind that will follow you anywhere and then plop down for a nap! And what I got was a super intense, super smart and motivated dog, who treats every task like a military drill and will…not…ever…stop…bringing….back…the…goddamn…tennis ball. Still, I am grateful for her, and the way she loves our family and greets every day with such passionate enthusiasm, and the way she jumps into bed with Gabe and puts her paw over his hand while he’s reading before he goes to sleep every night.
This pie I’m eating for breakfast.
The people who will litearlly save the world, wherever they are.
The city of New Haven and its real-deal, everyday friendliness; its excellent ethnic restaurants; its free art museums; its somehow-small-town vibe and the fact that I run into people I know everywhere I go.
My circles of friends, our monthly dinners, concert-going, coffee dates and text chains. Annual get togethers, potential trips, impromptu phone calls.
Aidy’s extreme extrovertedness; Nora’s writing; the crazy activities that Gabe plans, and how inventive they are, even though they make me so crazy because he always wants me to freeze something, then microwave something, then make something out of cardboard, then it doesn’t work out, now everyone is crying.
J’s optimism.
My brother, who is judging us for eating pie for breakfast, even though it was totally him who got into the pie more than anyone else last night and demolished the pumpkin, like, entirely, leaving a small, weird, sliver, as though that made it not so bad. My mother’s propensity to get it done, whatever it is, no matter how challening. My best-ever mother-in-law and “sisters!” and extended family, raucous gatherings and laughing and laughing and laughing. Nieces and nephews and cousins and second-cousins and never learning what first-cousin-once-removed means even though I could easily look it up.
Christmas music! Christmas lights!
The ocean, the stars, the warm yellow lights in people’s windows when I walk the crazy dog at night. The cold quiet, and the warm rush and shouted, happy exclamations when I come back home, as though I’ve been gone forever.