Pockets, buttons, and, well, everything

A small list of big, thankful-ish gratitude

If listening is better for you today (or any day) you’ll find an audio version here. ⬆️

It’s Thanksgiving week in the U.S., which means airports and highways are doing their best impression of a mosh pit. Some 18 million people are expected to squeeze through TSA lines, and another 73 million will be driving, inching toward kitchens where someone will inevitably say, “Dinner’s almost ready,” while still juggling eight unfinished tasks. I wish them well. I’ve been there.

Air travel is a riot, isn’t it?

After living in New York the first three years of our marriage, half that time aboard an old wooden sailboat, my husband and I eventually sailed to Maryland and never left. That put us more or less between our families of origin, his back north and mine farther south. We were close enough to drive to either for the holidays, so we took a cue from an older sibling and committed to alternating, annually, between Thanksgiving and Christmas. It made everyone happy—except us.

The stress of getting our shit together, physically and psychologically, before we left and then keeping it together as we traveled was like shoving our combined anxieties into a suitcase and hoping the zipper would hold. Managing our souring attitudes as we joined the masses doing the exact same thing was the kind of communal misery that’s almost funny but really isn’t. One year, a seven-hour drive stretched to fourteen, and that was the last straw, the end of the obligation, and the beginning of our own holiday traditions.

These days I’m less affected by travel logistics and more interested in grounded experiences that set the holidays apart from all the other days of the year. Before a recent Thanksgiving, I set out to recreate an image I’d admired for at least a decade but had no right to use. I’d already shared it more than once without attribution on social media, telling my guilty conscience to STFU. To put matters right, I took my imagination and a basket into nature and hunted for shapes and colors I thought might work: a cluster of Nandina berries, a shriveled mushroom, a Sweetgum ball. Two days later, after arranging and rearranging two dozen little treasures, my own message emerged.

In case you’re wondering, the “shriveled mushroom” is the letter i.

Even in crowded places with their unnerving chaos, I find comfort in remembering what’s worth noticing and appreciating. This year, I’m naming and savoring some of those things. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, I hope the day brings you glimpses of gratitude.

Give thanks.

I am grateful for waking up, sure, but also for the bravery it takes to leave the bed-nest and step into days that are unpredictable and often harsh. I’m grateful for towels that smell like sunlight and enliven the skin with line-dried roughness—for hot, earthy tea, cream that’s almost butter and people who seem happy to see me.

I am thankful for the soft fleece and worn toes of the Uggs I wear around the house except on the hottest days, the ones my kid begged for in high school but left behind years later. I’m thankful for schools, and kids, and sheep.

I appreciate dark-eyed juncos and irrepressible wrens, neighbors who wave and the one who avoids eye contact, cast iron skillets and cars with automatic windows, ferns that unfurl from fuzzy, coiled centers, and farmers who dedicate themselves to growing food I love to eat.

I’m thankful for chocolate, for music, for elastic waistbands and pockets—especially leggings with pockets, for which younger me envies older me.

The “jump to recipe” button has saved me at least two months of scrolling time. Step-by-step photos of how to slice and sauté onions are incredible, but my adult-onset ADHD cannot hang.

I’m grateful for people who forgive me for forgetting their name, their meeting, or the thank-you note I can’t seem to write reliably anymore.

I appreciate those who unapologetically sing off-key, teaching me to be less embarrassed by my own imperfections. I appreciate the guy from long ago who was willing to have a reasonable, private exchange about his politics, and mine, even though it still left me in tears. I guess some convictions have gathered too much steam to notice what they’re blowing past in the median.

I am grateful for the animal rescuers and the teachers, the janitors and eldercare providers, the scientists, federal workers, arborists, emergency dispatchers, the creative souls, and the analytical ones who know what to do with a spreadsheet. I appreciate customer service representatives, especially the ones who make me demand to speak to a manager.

We humans make life harder for ourselves, but it’s hard even without us. We lose partners, lose jobs, get sick, watch loved ones fade, and grow weary of the ugliness. Some days it feels like nothing will ever be easy or fair again, but those are feelings, and they change.

Thanksgiving 2021

I’m thankful for all of it: the ordinary, the overlooked, the maddening, the spectacular, for times I felt like showing up and times I needed to lay low, because it was all too damn much. For small mercies, for a good night’s sleep, and for the day after, should it come.

~Elizabeth

Are you feeling thankful-ish? Is there a “gratitude fail” in your week—something you tried to like but couldn’t quite get there? Or something you never expected to appreciate that caught you by surprise? Drop it in the comments; I’d love to chat more.

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Thanks for spending some time here in the midst of what’s probably a busy week. Here’s to tea, pockets, neighbors, families, and everything else that keeps life interesting.