November 27, 2009 § Leave a comment

Everything on Thanksgiving seems sweeter.  It’s as if you become more sensitive to minutia, and you live this day unlike other days.  You live this day the way you should every day.  Noticing the small elements that make up your life, noticing the “have” over the “have not,” noticing what moments bring you contentment.  What moments make you thankful.

It’s the way his pillows smell when you wake up wrapped in his embrace.  The way he looks while he’s sleeping, and how, when you quietly leave the bed, his arms try to catch you before you depart.  He immediately feels your absence, and you smile.  How it feels to be wanted by him when he’s not even thinking.  Everything seems sweeter.

The sound of your mother’s voice on the telephone.  She’s happy and excited for the day, and she probably can’t wait to see you.  She just called to be the first to wish you a happy Thanksgiving.

The scent of the french toast and the surprise breakfast you’re preparing for your love.  The way he rubs his eyes open and smiles when he sees the feast.  The way he holds you before digging in.  The way he kisses you after, when you’ve traveled back to bed.

How the train rides home seem swift and the passengers friendly.  How the familiar images between your two cities flash before you, framed by windows and the sunlight of an early afternoon. How your sister’s face lights up when she pulls up in front of you.  How the sounds of your family fill the air when you enter home, and you kiss, kiss, kiss the loves of your life.

And when the night winds down, and you’re in bed on a cloud, the whole world whisks around you, pushing and mixing the past, the present, and the future into one moment.  And that world just seems like it’s yours, and you just feel so lucky to have it all, and all you can think about is everything you have, and in these little things in our every day, there’s nothing but hope.

There’s nothing but hope.

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