I’m thankful for food in the pantry, stacked firewood in the garage and for my little house with a big view. I’m thankful for a loving husband and two healthy and delightful children who are really no longer children. I’m thankful to work in a beautiful library where I’m surrounded by great co-workers and thousands of books. I’m thankful for studded tires, ice cleats and plow trucks, also my Colorado family, whom I love and miss every single day. I’m thankful for my Alaskan friends who make living here a blessing and an adventure.
I’m thankful for the opportunity to write and for the people who believe it’s a worthwhile endeavor. I’m thankful for the education my daughter is able to pursue, and for the Swarthmore endowment that makes it possible. I’m thankful for my fiddle and that it found its way through the Sundmark family and landed at my doorstep at a time in my life when it made all the difference. I’m thankful for my banjo, although I’m not sure my family feels the same affection for it that I feel. I’m also thankful for muscle memory—that my fingers know what to do when I retrieve my instruments from their cases after weeks or months of neglect.
I’m thankful for my dogs. They entertain and warm my heart in a predictable and unconditional way. I’m thankful for cars that run, for good coffee and chocolate—obviously. I’m thankful for down comforters, clear skies and the moon, especially when it reflects on Kachemak Bay. I’m thankful for the Internet and for word-processors. At the same time, I’m thankful for sharp pencils and notebooks.
I’m thankful for science and poetry, and that between the two there will always be new discoveries. I’m thankful for aging, and for the perspective I gain each year.
Gratitude is everywhere I look for it, and I could go all day. But I’ll stop for now.
Mostly I want to say thank you, wherever you are, for being a part of what makes my life my life.