Looking out my backdoor: Give thanks in all things

I remember the Thanksgiving when Ben first brought his girlfriend, Shea, to dinner. We had the traditional meal, turkey nicely browned, all the side dishes. I asked everyone to share some one thing they felt especially thankful for that day.

Years later my daughter-in-law, Shea, told me how my request had terrified her. None of her family talked about gratitude. Poor Shea. On top of being scared to share something personal, she had been scared to meet me.

My children! Both of them told stories (?) that had their prospective spouses quivering when they met me. The reality is that I’m a total cream puff and prepared to like anybody my children like. In fact, most of their friends call me “Mom.”

I like to check in with what I am thankful for on special days. Thanksgiving. Christmas. Easter. My birthday. Okay, maybe not my birthday.

Special days. Friday, because the sun is shining. Tuesday, because a frog sat on my doorstep. Sunday because it rained, poured pounding rain. It never rains in November. Not since I’ve lived here. But it rained Sunday. And Monday.

Special days. National Kazoo Day. Poetry Week. Mother Goose Day. World Thinking Day — if only!

Let me declare this to be “World With Friends Day”.

This Thanksgiving I dedicate to you, my friends. I am grateful for each one of you. Some of you are long-time friends, some new friends, some acquaintances. Some of you I’ve not met in person but you know me very well; you know me through my stories.

Thank you for allowing me to share my life, my world, with you. Thank you for letting me share when I’m feeling down-right blue. Thank you for letting me share the days when the play of light is so beautiful it brings me to tears.

I’d like to invite you into my home today. Please, come on in. Let’s sit at the table. The bread is ready to take out of the oven. We’ll have a simple snack of warm bread slathered with butter. Mango jam. How about Mexican hot chocolate?

I’d like to know you better. Or we can sit in silence if you wish. It’s all good. Another slice?

Thank you for letting me share. You all come back now.

——

Sondra Ashton grew up in Harlem but spent most of her adult life out of state. She returned to see the Hi-Line with a perspective of delight. After several years back in Harlem, Ashton is seeking new experiences in Etzatlan, Mexico. Once a Montanan, always. Read Ashton’s essays and other work at http://montanatumbleweed.blogspot.com/. Email sondrajean.ashton@yahoo.com.