By Kellie Meisl
This is a post about the gratitude that we experience in strange places, places where we don't expect to feel gratitude, but do, then feel a double dose because it was unexpected.
For instance, I feel gratitude quite often when I go to McDonald's for a cup of iced coffee. There are two McDonald's in town, and one in a neighboring town, nearby the highway I took to see my mother while she was in the hospital recovering from open heart surgery. It doesn't matter which one I go to, because at all three the people are always extremely friendly, and tell me to have a super day. I can tell they mean it. That really helped when I was getting on the highway for another jaunt to the hospital, and it really helps when I stop by for a morning pick me up on my way to care taking now, too.
The coffee is delicious, Paul Newman's organic, and affordable! How can I not feel grateful about my happy little indulgence having so many positives?
Just today, I felt grateful for big, black, garbage bags. We have been cleaning my mom's very large home out, both indoors and the yard, and it is so nice to know that I can grab a big bag, fill it, and it will contain all that is meant to move on. I can then easily carry it off to my brother's truck where it will be delivered to a dumpster, by him, leaving us all with less baggage. Big, black, garbage bags are a godsend.
Even though my mom's gardens are overwrought with weeds from a year of her being unable to work in them due to illness, I find myself on my knees, grateful, plucking out weeds. The smell of the earth and greens, with the monotonous motion of the pulling, lull me and take me back to a simpler time when my head was full of hope and possibilities. Can it be this hope is returning?
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I am grateful that my mom is healing and that she is letting us take care of her without too much complaining about us moving her things and I am most grateful that she has changed her lifestyle to heal better. It takes a lot of courage and energy to heal from open heart surgery.
I am grateful to have my mom.
Writer and visual artist Kellie Meisl lives in Pittsfield, MA. This post appeared first on her blog, WALK.
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