We had a howling storm pass through around 3AM last night. Warm tropical air passed up and over us here on the coast after wreaking havoc in some of the southern states. At my house we heard simultaneously the tapping feet of a frightened, discontented dog and howling winds. We then saw two sets of flashings: white lightning and blue toplights on two squad cars hauling something out of the middle of the street.
Now here, in this standing-room-only train, I’ll take a moment to be thankful. First, I have a window seat; also, my slide show for the 10am meeting is complete. A favorite barista at a favorite morning breakfast stop gave me a stunning chai latte; my basement was dry and the pump worked; no trees fell on anything. I’m also hopeful the animal I heard in my bathroom walls is just a flying squirrel, not a big gray. That’s a problem for another day.
In a way, this litany sounds superficial as I think about the entire infrastructure that supports me being able to make the above claims. Although I have a mortgage, debts and may owe (yet again) income tax, since we’re in the stage of losing dependents: I have a job, cars to get to a job, food and water obtained from working at the job, and a community of friends doing just about the same things. Given the state of our country and world, this is a huge set of conditions for which to be thankful. I’m also thankful I have a new book of Linda Pastan’s[i] poems in my backpack, and I’m getting to know the world of Jayber Crow through the words of Wendell Berry[ii].
I hope your day today gives you time for tea, a fresh start, and a moment (or two) to look up, and be grateful.
[i] Pastan, Linda. Insomnia. New York: Norton, 2015.
[ii] Berry, Wendell. Jayber Crow. Berkeley: Counterpoint, 2000.