Thank You

The last few years have been some of the most challenging of my life and at times it's been difficult to find things for which to be thankful but this year my blessings are easily recognizable and I am can say for the first time since my family lost my grandmother in 2004 I am truly grateful and humbled by the blessings that have found their way into my life. On this incredible Thanksgiving afternoon, on a warm, sunny Denver day, I am thankful for

• Ken, who was able to find his way back home to Denver, and for the time we've been able to spend together since, rebuilding our family and bringing new life into these nearly sixteen years we've been a part of each others lives.
• the smell of homemade pumpkin pie first thing in the morning.
• Kevi, who reminded me this morning that we should be thankful for our troubles, for they too have purpose: to make us stronger and to help us truly appreciate the blessings that we have found.
• Patty Griffin's song "Heavenly Day," in which she sings, "No one on my shoulder / Bringing me fears / Got no clouds up above me / Bringing me tears / Got nothing to tell you / I got nothing much to say / Only I'm glad to be here with you / On this heavenly heavenly heavenly heavenly heavenly day."
• The good people I work with, who are supportive and kind, who make me laugh and think equally hard, who have become a sort of family to me.
• The poetry of Mary Oliver.
• The soft weight of cats sleeping against me on cold nights.
• My family, who seem to get stronger and closer every day, especially my sister, Casey, who had a difficult year but has shone brighter than ever before.
• The memories I have of the people who have walked with me, if only for a time, and shared so many special experiences, from April and the WNG to Marc, who knows he's smarter than me; from Kelly and The Dirt People to John, who has cow dreams; from Little Ruth to David, who taught me that not only are things good, but they're good for you; from Karren and her cookies to Rick, who understands the butterflies as well as I do.
• The power of Skinadinkinaw!
• The "It Gets Better Project" and Dan Savage for changing so many lives.
• Russian Olive and Linden trees for being sweet enough to get me through the entire year.
• Orion standing watch over these Autumn skies.
• Facebook and the connections it has restored.
• Duncan, for his ability to say "I love you," for his voice and eyes, his delight and wisdom, for the miles we have walked and will continue to walk, for the courage he has taught me and the dreams he has encouraged, and for being with me, not only during the difficult days, but the kind ones as well.
• And, as always, A.A. Milne, who wrote, "And by and by Christopher Robin came to the end of things, and he was silent, and he sat there, looking out over the world, just wishing it wouldn't stop."

And I am thankful to all the people who have joined Duncan and me on our walks through this blog, who comment and email and love him as much as I do. You have all enriched my life in countless ways.

Blessings to you, this Thanksgiving Day. May they be too numerous to count.

Hopes

It has been a sleepy day with Patty Griffin playing on the stereo. The sun has been very bright through the windows and even though the heat hasn't been turned on for nearly a week, the screen door is open and I am warm.

Duncan and I have walked down through The Run to The Glen several times, chasing squirrels and Buster, the cute little mutt who lives downstairs. The chores have been tended to and even though Dunc thought a little tug of war with his Bully sounded good, he gave up too soon, yawned a big, wide open yawn and went back to the couch to curl up in his favorite spot.


Even in his sleep he is gorgeous and I marvel at him, wondering what sweet dreams keep the smile on his face. I hope I am there with him, throwing the ball, wrestling in the long grass of summers past while the birds whistle above us. I hope I am praising him there and patting his tail or running my fingers though the hair at his ears. I hope he is happy and knows how much joy he brings me even when we're not walking.

Voices on a Beautiful Morning

What a grand, grand morning. Shortly after I climbed out of bed, while sitting at my desk sipping tea and glancing through bleary eyes at the news and before Duncan ambled down the hall for his morning stroll through the tall, damp grass, the phone rang. It was my father calling to update me on Grandma's condition. We'd spoken last night and I'd been left with a rather hopeless heart, feeling far away and as though my hands were tied. I'd made a simple request: the next time he was with her and she was awake I needed to talk with her. It didn't matter if she understood or if she spoke nonsense, I only wanted to hear her voice and know that she'd heard mine.

My father has a radio announcer's voice, which is good because that's what he does for a living. It's firm but charming, professional and commanding. It can confidently relate the worst news of the day and then turn around minutes later and remind us to attend the Grand Opening of the new Olsen Furniture Outlet in North Fargo, where clowns will twist balloons into animal shapes, prizes will be awarded, and the girls choir from some local high school will perform. His is the voice of radio, the kind of voice that can give its listeners exactly what they need, and this morning it gave me what I needed. And more. It's a quick way to wake up, talking to someone who speaks on the radio. Still not quite awake, still only sipping my steaming cup of caffeine-free Egyptian Licorice Mint tea, I answered the phone and wondered briefly if perhaps my name had been drawn to win the million dollar prize if only I could answer three questions. I startled awake even faster when I realized he was calling to let me speak to Grandma, who, apparently, had improved immensely overnight.

Grandma's voice was sunshine and gold and everything precious in the world to me. It sounded like a bright morning, like presents under the tree, like children running through a sprinkler under a hot summer day, like deep warm pillows and the scent of peppermint Certs unfolding from the dark recesses of a purse all rolled into one. It was the sweetest sound I've heard in a long time. She sounded like she was smiling and feeling well and my eyes welled up as we spoke. She'll be discharged from the hospital this afternoon. The best news! Grand, grand news on this beautiful, beautiful day.

After we finished and I'd hung up, Duncan came down the hall, stretched and bowed at me as he does every morning. I knelt down next to him and let him lick my face. He reached out his paw and let me cup it and hold him while we sat for several minutes, thankful for everything there is to be thankful for. The sunshine felt even warmer for both of us this morning as we strolled the damp grass and breathed in all the morning scents which seemed to have been placed solely for our pleasure.

"Oh heavenly day, all the clouds blew away
Got no trouble today with anyone."
(Heavenly Day, Patty Griffin)

Rain

Strange how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
When I'm still alive underneath this shroud
Rain Rain Rain
(Patty Griffin Rain)

Our first rain of the year. A nice solid rain that started as a heavy mist and got bigger. The lights at the park cast orange puddles of light that Duncan and I hurried through, darkness to orange, darkness to orange. It's still warm out though and my hoodie, despite turning damp, kept me warm. It's been a rough week and I feel tired down through my bones but this rain, this beautiful mist, felt good on my face, running down through my hair and into my ears. The snow is washing away, if only for awhile, and I know Spring is coming. Spring with my dog, walking the trails we've discovered in the mountains. Spring with the flowers and the little birds hopping madly from bouncing branch to bouncing branch. Spring smell in my open windows, and the sound of the night rain on the grass. I survive winter solely for the joy of the rain, for splashing with Duncan in puddles and not caring if our feet get wet. For feeling my tired heart burst open at all the beauty in the world and Duncan, at my side, a kind of shroud, leading me from darkness to joy, guiding me to the rediscovery of the world.