A poem of thanksgiving at midlife.
Arriving Again and Again without Noticing
I remember all the different kinds of years.
Angry, or brokenhearted, or afraid.
I remember feeling like that
walking up the mountain along the dirt path
to my broken house on the island.
And long years of waiting in Massachusetts.
The winter walking and hot summer walking.
I finally fell in love with all of it:
dirt, night, rock and far views.
It's strange that my heart is as full
now as my desire was then.
This year, in the midst of financial hardship and two wars and more bad news than we can possibly process, it may be hard to remember how grateful you are for your life. I am grateful for mine. I am thankful for the simple but priceless things in my life: my dog; a good bed; warm clothes; meaningful and creative work; hearty friendships; my brother and his children; and as always, my beloved. I have so much to be happy about regardless of how old I am, how I look, or how much I don't make. You can't buy love nor happiness - and I have both.
What more can I say? Happy Thanksgiving.