“Thanksgiving goes probably far deeper than you folks suppose. I am not sure but it is the source of the highest poetry.”
Walt Whitman
I woke up yesterday morning at five a.m. to a precious sound—my husband coming in the front door after a thirteen hour-drive. I spent the day at home with my family and enjoyed dinner with my husband, children, parents, and in-laws. We shed tears over the people we love who are no longer with us. Our four year-old learned that Thanksgiving is not exactly about getting presents but she had a great day anyway. Our eight year-old bloomed with generous acts. Our ten year-old looked at me with glowing eyes and told me he’d never been to a real feast before. I am thankful and want to hold on to that state of mind. I want to walk around in a cloud of gratitude.
To my mind, there is something jarring about going from a day devoted to giving thanks to a day devoted to getting more. It’s too easy for me to forget that one of the synonyms for “thankful” is “content.” Then there’s “beholden,” another synonym, and one which I don’t think I’ve ever used in a sentence before today. But why should “bound in gratitude” be an old-fashioned idea? I am blessed beyond belief. This is a truth I want to carry with me at all times. Maybe even be bound to it.
