Ten Gratitudes

• Friends near and far, physical holding and listening, on couches and through telephone lines, catching tears unflinching and warm.
• Supper with good folks, week after week, learning to listen to one another.
• Tiny golden halos on fingers, handmade, parcel delivered on a heart sore day.
• How these hands find their way around spatulas and bowl rims, edging hot pink raspberry icing and scooping chewy cookies for eager neighbours, easy, simple, familiar play.
• Stories, told in apron strings, heard from card decks, memories, all that we know.
• Having the same story as another person, the same story from thirteen years ago, when we were brave, naive, shy, indignant, and hungry enough to eat lumpy boxed mac and cheese re-hydrated (sort of) by melted snow.
• Letting go of plans because something slower and more spacious just feels right.
• That my husband came home early today, after I felt heartbroken and wished to have him near, and sooner.
• An abundance of soup in the fridge. Bone broth forever!
• The promise of a deep, long night sleep at home with my family. 

Wishing you gratitude as you fall asleep...

K.