Thankful

I think I have reached that point in adulthood when the "thankful" list is both incredibly hard to write and incredibly simple.

What I mean by that is I am at that point in life where more than a few friends have already had cancer. I have one dear friend right now recovering from a bone marrow transplant, and another 11 weeks into a hospital stay. Life is hard. I am old enough now that I am paying for college, which means rather than easing off in my career . . . I have to work harder. And I have three more to send through college. Considering Demon Baby is only 3 . . . I will be working unti I have false teeth in a glass by my bed. I am old enough that I am watching my parents age . . . and old enough that mortality crosses my mind. I am old enough to have said painful good-byes . . . and grieved in ways I never would have imagined when I was a child.

But with that age comes a wisdom. That what you are truly thankful for becomes a list of those things you cannot buy. Those things you know you are incredibly lucky to have. You become thankful that you love deeply enough to grieve when someone is no longer in your life. You become thankful you love friends so much that when they are sick, you thoughts are constantly with them.

So . . . my thankful list this year is crystal clear.

My friends. Both in the real world and in my cyber world. You know who you are.

My career. It's never a total lark being a writer. It's unstable. The news each day is doom and gloom, but hey . . . I still get to make stuff up for a living. And blog in my pjs. So how cool is that?

My parents . . . they are staying with me until January. That's . . . um . . . unusual for an adult child to be able to live with her parents for that long and not smother them with a pillow . I am grateful, frankly, that I am grateful they are here, despite the addition of two more people in this house. I am grateful they are still WITH me and still healthy.

My Oldest Daughter. My heart breaks a bit every time I listen to her latest concerto. She's a classical violinist . . . and . . . my God, to have that much talent. Apparently, she thinks I am a terrible "phone person" (which is true). We talk twice a day, but I know I somehow fail to convey how proud I am. Or that when I hear Ray LeMontagne come on my iPod I start to cry each and every time (he's kind of "our" singer). Considering I have 8 of his songs in a random 3,000-song shuffle, I can well up once a day or three times in a day. And I think that's a good thing--to have an adult daughter (gulp . . . she's an ADULT) who is my friend. That I love that much.

Oldest Son for being the kindest guy I know--now or EVER. The one who helps the babies in the nursey at church, or the one who unloads the bags at the food bank. The thoughtful one. The math guy who patiently showed his grandfather how to play the Wii this week.

Baby Girl, for being my poet. The artist's heart. The sweetie-pie who never fails to make me laugh with her wit. The one who draws and creates graphics and has such an unending imagination that the little angel on my shoulder occasionally whispers in my ear, "She's a writer."

And finally . . . Demon Baby. Every day he challenges me in ways that make me want to pull my hair out strand by strand--and in whole fistfuls. He is fresh and angry and difficult and creates mayhem wherever he goes. And yet . . . that imagination and vocabulary and the way he THINKS tells me he is destined to go places. No one will EVER stick Demon Baby in a corner. He would never stay there. His new routine is to come into my bed in the middle of the night. In his sleep, he reflexively reaches his tiny hand out until he finds my cheek, then he rubs it for a while until he settles back into a sleep cycle. I don't move him back to his bed, because with this kid, that's the sweetest part of my day/night. And so I wouldn't trade it.

See? Crystal clear. Delightfully simple.

What are YOU thankful for? And HAPPY HOLIDAY and SAFE TRAVELS.