I’m not sure how to begin this letter. I want to say thank you and I want to scream out loud. I want to curse you and love you and forgive you and tell my kids about how horrible you are and yet I want to show them how much you can mean to them and what you can do for families. I want to forget about you the way I want to forget about my bald spot. I want to honor you the way I honor Christmas. We have so much history, you and I.
It was back in 1621 when you first came upon us and spread your will. There was good and bad even then. You caused us to break bread with the natives and our pilgrims killed them not weeks later. Still for those three days there was feasting. There was happiness and we all gave thanks.
Today much of the darkness that transpired in early America is overlooked. We remember you as a day to break bread with loved ones and to give thanks for the things we have and the people we have among us. I treat you no differently. Today I give thanks for family and for the friends I hold close. I am thankful for my job and the wonderful woman who first hired me here. I am thankful for books and the ability to write them. I am thankful for my health and for the roof above my head. I am thankful for those who serve in wars and those who serve in civic duty–be it fire, police, or even politics.
I am thankful for my cat, may she rest in peace.
I am thankful for having an ear for music and a wealth of sound and substance to enjoy. I am thankful for this lovely town in which I live and the people here that I love. I am thankful for love itself.
I am thankful for the birth of the universe for that is the birth of me and the ability to think and know and wonder and love and to one day die with my heart full and my life well lived.