The Leaves

November 27, 2016

I've spent the bulk of this post-Thanksgiving Sunday hassling with the leaves.  I'm not complaining. It's the worst form of #blessed #firstworldproblems (oh, good grief) to b*tch about a yard full of gorgeous trees shedding their dead weight next to my magic house. The thing is, it's all so beautiful.  Do I wish I were Samantha Stevens in "Bewitched" with the ability to twinkle my nose and make the leaves magically vanish? Yes. Am I grateful I have a) the time and b) the ability to deal with my "estate"? Yes. Do I pinch myself that I get to live here and blissfully so? Yes.

The other portion of my day was spent weaving Christmas into the fabric of the house.  This is our first Christmas here.  There is a simplicity and joy in it that I can't articulate. It's also our first Christmas with the doggies. There might just be a complexity and rage in it about which I will easily shout, should my dear canines decide to exact their destructive powers on my handiwork. I'm hoping, however, that the better angels of their nature will deter them from ripping to shreds my holiday cheer.

I'm not holding my breath.

There are people I love facing challenges unfair and monumental.  I love them. I hate it for them.  I am grateful for them. Today as I bagged leaves and strung lights I found myself thinking about those people in my life who are in the midst of not the best year. Their struggles make my leaves and lights nearly nonsensical.  But I know it is the minutiae that sometimes makes the most sense.

So this Thanksgiving weekend, I am deeply thankful. I have known years that aren't "the best." This year, however, has been one of the most remarkable, eye-opening, happy expanses of my 42 years.  I take none of it for granted. Not even the leaves.