A Smidge of Thankful Things

These past three months have been crazy, wacky busy for me. The result = an overly tired woman writer. That is the excuse I am giving myself. Because last night, as I dream walked/shuffled my way into the bathroom to take care of business, I tripped over a non-existent bump in the ultra smooth linoleum floor, or was attacked by an invisible fairy, or was taken down by a ghost dog. After landing in the bathtub, I came to the realization that...

I am thankful for the shower curtain that broke my fall.

Living in the Pacific Northwest, rainy nights are a part of the package of living in a plush, green, grand scenery. Rain = grass and super tall trees and flowers and moss. Even the ten minute ride to work is like traveling in a gorgeous landscape calendar. And so, the night before the shower curtain incident, it came as a revelation that...

I am thankful for that eighty-five pound puppy who wanted to snuggle on my belly, to let me know that thunder storms are quite scary, indeed (and the other fifteen pound puppy, but his cuddles are not quite so breath-taking).

Living in front of a farm, with a continual change in unseen pollens and dust in the air, I am apt to sneeze. I get attacked by my nose much more than the dull, dirty, smoggy air of big city San Diego, where we are from. And my sneeze volume was inherited from Grandpa Chuck. They can be heard several aisles away in the grocery store, or so I have been told by my sons. The last time I was shaken by the sneeze of earful doom, I inherently knew that...

I am thankful for tissues, so that I don't smear others in my sneezing pollen sensitivities.

Having lived in the jungles of far away Costa Rica, I never recuperated from the mind melting heat that takes you to a new high in the splendidness of sweat. Although that level of hotness is more than any sane human should suffer through, it is one that my skin at least partially grew to accept. At least enough to render me helpless in these frigid foggy mornings. They push to make me jump out in joy, if my body were not feeling constantly under attack from hypothermia, with the knowledge that...

I am thankful for the dozens of sweaters, jackets, and coats, one thick robe, and fleece leggings that are always ready to accept me in the closet.

In reflecting on the vast void of boredom that my life could have been, I wonder how I ever got to have such a full one. It could have been nothing but dreary office work, drumming my fingers on a table at every meal, and perfecting my naturally intensely beautiful face and hair that always looks great (if I am going to dream about what ifs, might as well throw that last fantasy in the pile). But then I hear the native call of, "Hey, Mom," and I am shaken to the core with the epiphany that...

I am thankful for my sons. And what else can I say about that?

Heather Leigh
Author forever thankful for Readers who are charmed with my writing

Happy Thanksgiving!