As a childless expatriate, holidays tend to be pretty mellow events around my house. I don’t even have to cook dinner—my husband is taking care of that. The arrival of Thanksgiving has given me pause for thought, however, and I have many things for which to be thankful.
Let’s start with my home. My bathroom is so small I can clean the sink while I’m sitting on the toilet and the basement gets water ingress in a heavy storm, but it’s my cozy sanctuary, a lot nicer than some of the crack shacks I’ve slept in, and I am grateful for it.
With his mad handyman skills and creative eye, my husband has made our little house a grillion times better than when we bought it. He’s built stuff, fixed stuff and grown stuff. I am thankful for the blood (yes, there was blood), sweat and more sweat he’s poured into it. He’s also worked pretty hard at being a great husband. Lucky me.
I’m really, really thankful for my Tragically Hip concert tickets. No, wait. That’s not quite right. I’m thankful that my soul can be so ignited by music. That it makes me scream and sing until I’m hoarse and exhausted. This still doesn’t detract from the fact that The Hip’s lead singer, Gord Downie, is a freaky force of nature and I can’t wait to flail around in sync with him on December 7th.
I love my car. I know that maybe that makes me a little bit shallow, but I can’t help it. I. Love. My. Car. (Her name is Emma Peel and she’s a Mini Cooper S.)
A MAJOR shout-out goes to my guardian angel and spiritual overseer (wouldn’t you like to know who they are, hey? Well, I’m not telling.) I live a risky life sometimes, and they always have my back. I know I can count on them, and that gives me confidence to continue to take risks. Hallelujah for having a safety net.
I’d like to give thanks for Special K cereal with dark chocolate flakes, washing machines, toothpaste, sports bras, tweezers, the people who express my dog’s anal glands for me, airplanes and Tina Fey.
My family can be counted on one hand, but it’s definitely a quality-over-quantity type of deal, if you know what I mean. Okay, yes, in her addled state, my mother now thinks that I’m her sister and my name is Turtle, but I can read her energy, and it’s love. My friends are true blue – the in-person ones, the online ones, they all have an immeasurable impact on my heart. The really good ones also temper my neuroses.
I’m grateful to the Native Americans (in the United States) and First Nations (in Canada) for sharing their land. I know the manner in which that came to be was rather brutal, but I’m really glad to be here. We have lots of natural resources and no land mines. I just hope we put a lid on doing the stupid things we do that are slowly destroying this magnificent continent. If we don’t, well, then we really didn’t deserve for it to be shared with us in the first place.
Thankful doesn’t even cover how I feel about soft things: bunnies, blankets, my furry fleece jacket, spreadable butter, my cat Sushi, the pillows on the bed. Not the economy, though. Economy, you get out of this list right now. And yo Bananas, follow Economy.
Finally, I’m thankful that you’re here, reading my words. Years and years and years ago, my family doctor assessed my mental health and, with her trademark earnestness, told me that I might consider writing as the creative outlet with which to retain a hold on my sanity. It has been a journey of fits and spurts–for both my writing and my sanity–but I think I’m finally in it for the long haul. I love to write, but most of all, I am grateful for the connection it brings with such great people.
Happy Thanksgiving, and giant hugs to you and yours.
What are you thankful for? Add your comment to help build a mountain of gratitude here. Or at least induce a lot of scrolling.
Debbie Young says
Great list, Laura, beautifully put. I tthink EVERY country should have a Thanksgiving Day – something we’re lacking here in England where our national motto is a more constrained “mustn’t grumble” kind of thankfulness.
Me, I’m thankful every day for one of my country’s greatest achievements: the British National Health Service, making good healthcare accessible to all, regardless of age, sex, race, class and income. The NHS keeps my husband and daughter in spite of their Type 1 Diabetes – and providing the daily drugs that stop me from seizing up from my rheumatoid arthritis. Can’t think why every country doesn’t have one of these either!
Laura Zera says
Ah, the NHS. ‘Tis a thing to be proud of and thankful for, for sure. I have a friend whose son has juvenile diabetes, and I remember well when they couldn’t get insurance coverage for him due to it being a pre-existing condition. Blessings to you and your family, Debbie.
Molly Greene says
Thanks for this Laura! I’m thankful for my doggie companion Frank, for my 10-year-old Gap microfiber vest that I LOVE and wear constantly (acck! what will I do when the zipper breaks?) for the occasional bouts of true peace I stumble upon, and for my lovely, loving friends – both online and off. Happy Thanksgiving!
Laura Zera says
That’s so funny. I just recently semi-retired a 15-year-old fleece (only wear it to the gym now). Hard to let go sometimes. LOL! xo
Aniruddha Sastikar says
Hi Laura,
What a wonderful write-up on Thanksgiving.
Truly inspiring and touching. I am thankful for being alive and cherish so many beautiful things granted to me.
Wish You A Happy Thanksgiving.
Regards.
Laura Zera says
And your thankfulness comes through in everything that you write, Aniruddha. I admire that you are so mindful about such things. Thank you for being you!
Aniruddha Sastikar says
That’s a very BIG compliment from you to me, Laura.
I truly will cherish our friendship.
Apologies for the delayed reply.
Thank You.
Gavin says
I love reading your stuff, mainly because your writing style flows so well. And, yes, there’s a little bit of envy as in, “What’s she gone and done now?”
As for Thanksgiving, I’m a white African and have no cooking flue what you guys are doing over there massacring turkeys and apple pie.
Nevertheless, without even a nod at all the African woes I could pick, do you remember on the Highveld in the late afternoon when the storm clouds are building towering edifices in the sky. Their bellies pregnant green with hail and their mushrooming tops billowing brilliant white in the sunlight. That’s when I’m thankful for Africa’s big sky and my heart is glad.
Oh, and I grow bananas in my backyard, leave them out of it.
Laura Zera says
“No cooking flue” — now *that* is awesome. I’m very glad that you come to visit me via this blog and thank you for your kind words. Your description of the Highveld is so eloquent that I think you should be doing some writing yourself, if you’re not already. Africa’s big sky. Yes, I hope to see it again one day soon.
Jodi from Heal Now and Forever says
This is an absolutely beautiful, well written list. I love it. I will post it on fb!
Love this line, *I’m thankful that my soul can be so ignited by music.* and * I can read her energy, and it’s love.* This list warmed my heart today!
Laura Zera says
Thank you, thank you, thank you, Jodi. xo
Nikky44 says
I love your list as I can relate to so many of the points.
Only a week ago, someone asked me how can you be thankful now that you lost your home, the apartment you worked 30 years to get, you left your job a place where you have been appreciated for 18 years, left my car that I only bought few months ago? How can you be thankful for the life you had and now you have no job, no income, no home? I am thankful for my life and thankful for every single thing in it, the bad things even more than the good ones, because if all that hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t be where I am now, I wouldn’t have met the great friends I have now, i wouldn’t have appreciated the beauty of life. It’s not the home or the car, it’s the connection and the love that matter,
Laura Zera says
You are a warrior of love, Nikky! I totally agree with you (although wish you didn’t have to lose the other stuff along the way — that’s rough and I’m sorry you’ve had to go through that). I think there is a lot of power in reframing the ‘bad stuff’ in a way that gives it some benefit, e.g. it made me stronger, it made me more compassionate, just like you are doing right now. Keep on trucking, girlfriend!
Pamela Foster says
My husband and I have lived outside our country of origin for about half or our twenty years together. An ex-pats holidays are usually filled more with friends than family and that can be a good thing as well as a difficult experience. We learned to create our own traditions and, now that we’re older and staying closer to our original home, I’m grateful for that opportunity. It’s made me more aware of what’s important to me.
Laura Zera says
I just read your bio — you’ve had an interesting journey (and an interesting family!) Nice to hear that it’s all come back ’round for you, Pamela.
Chris James says
Gorgeous, gorgeous post, so refreshing and honest and open. Thank you for sharing this, Laura, it was a pleasure to read.
Laura Zera says
It’s oh-so-nice to see your face on my blog post! Haven’t talked to you in a while but glad you popped in and thank you for your very, very kind words. xo
Chris James says
I’ve been wrapped finishing my WIP the last couple of months. I had to finish and just ignore as much of the rest as I could. Now I need to edit and all that, but I should have more time for my virtual friends *hugs*
bob albury says
I love the face you named your car Emma Peel; I was in love with Diana Riggs. You appreciate your husband and you love to travel and write to boot. I am in the beginning stages of writing, I try to bic (butt in chair) everyday, but so far only to burned eye holes in my flat screen monitor. I look forward to following you.
Bob Albury B )
Laura Zera says
I think burning eye holes in your monitor must be a writer’s rite of passage. It took me a while to find my groove, too. Keep at it, it will come! Thanks for reading, Bob, and happy writing to you.