November 25, 2010

Thanksgiving. Began it with a hike around Beaver Lake at dawn. The two best things I saw was a kingfisher and a man in a scull, rowing back and forth across the water at what I thought was a tremendous pace. Kyle and Thomas and I were the remnants of the company, but we ate well and happily. Grandma’s gravy boat saw action for the first time, maybe, in 40 years. The dishwasher sings a merry mechanical song in the kitchen. Leftovers for Kyle and Thomas and the crows and the neighbors’ dogs and such creatures as may be prowling this clement night.

I concentrate so much on what I want that I don’t think of what I’m thankful for. Everything, of course. Everything that I have and do not long for, plus the energy with which to long.