I’m thankful for a good many things, for many, many things indeed. I can’t list them all, and even if I could, I wouldn’t. Some things I’m thankful for are just for me, for sitting in a secret music box on a little hidden shelf in my mind. But this week, I’m thankful:
🍁 To have hiked up a snowy tableland foothill at dusk with the Bosun and his son, carrying with me the whole way up and back a carton of chocolate mousse (silly, yes—but it made sense at the time, even if it took a hand away from balancing on rocks when the path got exceptionally icy-muddy-slick);
🍁 For a sunny, blindingly bright snowy visit to a railroad museum, with a sprawling model of Colorado trains and made-up Victorian and 1950s towns, and with a display of “wanted posters” targeting outlaws and describing one as having a “face broad at the cheekbones” and liking “to argue against the Bible”;
🍁 To have hiked along warm orange rock faces by Red Rocks Amphitheater, with its Colorado Music Hall of Fame displaying glittery denim jackets donated by ‘70s folk artists (I’m also grateful the Bosun sticks to jeans and cowboy boots when he performs);
🍁 For drinking a cold mug of root beer with my stepson and laughing at his college-boy gratitude for things he won’t like at all in twenty years;
🍁 To have had interesting work to cram in late into the night (work that wouldn’t go away and kept me up in my dreams) ... because it is interesting and it does feel good to do;
🍁 For the Bosun playing chess with me and calling me a cheater (though it was he who cheated)—that bad loser with his foresight to have a bag of chocolate-covered orange peel on hand for me (he forgets to guard his chess queen but never his real queen).
And there are far more than these things. But these would be enough, even without the others.