So much to be thankful for
The Thanksgiving holiday changed our deadlines at work and that, coupled with some maddening e-mail problems, had me way behind.
Greg came in the door. He’d had the same kind of day I’d had and didn’t get home until after 7 p.m. He walked into a madhouse - a barking dog, a house that could only be classified as a disaster area and a to-do list handed to him just as he walked in the door.
He set his to-do list down and picked her up.
He smiled, smartly opting not to comment on the mess in the kitchen.
“So what are you doing?” he asked.
“Trying to work,” I replied. “I need to get the newspaper finished.”
Greg asked what I was going to write about in my “story” this week. I didn’t correct him, figuring the difference between a “story” and a “column” wasn’t really worth the bother.
“I have no idea,” I replied. “Haven’t gotten that far yet.”
“You should write about Thanksgiving,” he said. “You know, what you’re thankful for.”
I looked around. All I saw was more work to be done, starting with the pots and pans Sutton had pulled out of the cabinet as she worked on her “cooking skills.”
She was so cute as she concentrated on working the spoon through her imaginary creation. I’m definitely thankful for her.
I saw my husband, who had just thrown his coat over a chair in the dining room and left his shoes in the hall. Those are pretty small things. I’m thankful for him, too, and lucky that he’s such a great husband and father.
And the messy house and food piled up in the kitchen, waiting to be cooked for our visitors this week? We’re blessed here, too.
We have a roof over our head, food to eat and great friends and family.
I quit typing and turned off the computer. I walked into the living room, sitting down on the couch amidst Sutton and her pile of stuffed animals.
I opted not to worry about the mess and instead, Greg and I read Sutton a book. And I was thankful. Very, very thankful.
