Wednesday, November 23, 2011

gratitude: 2011

A Loaded Handbag tradition since 2010.

Let's just get this right out of the way. I'm thankful for being healthy, for being mentally sound, for being fed, clothed, watered, sheltered.

But there's a lot more to life, no?

Like having a backyard to call my own. A garage. A kitchen. A home.

The red bricks of Boston. The worn pubs of Boston.

 Fire-red leaves, fresh-split wood, sliced green apples. The smell of sage.  

Grace Kelly by firelight.

 Pencil skirts. Liquid eyeliner. Ray Charles on the record player.

Salted caramel cocoa, poured in a mug for two.

Asking the woman in the North End Italian bakery if you can take a picture of her rack.

Realizing two blocks later you meant display case.

Twelve grilled oysters, splashed with garlic butter.

Sugar-white sand. A rolling surf. A picnic on red-checked cloth.

Watching free Shakespeare, barefoot in the park.

Homemade hollandaise. Breakfast in bed.

Mozzarella. Mimosas. Margaritas.

A new book waiting on a freshly-made bed.


Trying to pretend killing your first lobster doesn't bother you, doesn't make you want to cry, not even a little bit, not at all.

That magic hour when the sun slants on the table, when the words you've been chasing for hours start pouring back onto the keyboard.

When you find the words you thought you'd lost.

Wandering. Exploring.

Finding wings you thought you'd clipped.

(Your turn.)