We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures. ~Thornton Wilder
A few treasures I’m conscious of:
My family. They know me better than anyone and love me anyway. (Okay, that may not apply to the close relative who unfriended me on Facebook, but I’m going to keep telling myself he loves me too, until I hear otherwise.)
Friends. That whole loving me in-spite-of-me thing you all do? Grateful, grateful, grateful.
The critters. For bringing rhythm and love to our lives. I had to stop writing this post to bring in the herd of dogs for their morning Milk Bones and to play fetch. Now two of them are at my feet asleep and Maya, one of our torties, is crapped out face-down on the towel-draped printer.
My job.
Roof over my head.
Food in the cupboard.
Electricity.
Curbside trash pickup.
My computer.
French roast coffee. And pumpkin spice lattes. And chocolate.
People who think up recipes. I have neither the patience nor the inclination to concoct recipes, but for those few times when I want to make something unusual and delicious, I’ve can turn to those of you who have and are willing to share your knowledge and expertise. Thank you, anonymous internet recipe poster, for the stuffed butternut squash recipe. It was a hit yesterday.
Microplush. Whether a throw or a robe, I love this stuff. And so do the critters.
Comfortable new shoes. It dawned on me one day that bandaids are no longer required accessories for the first couple of weeks wearing a new pair of shoes. Or maybe I’ve just figured out how to buy them. Either way, I’m thankful.
Writers.
Blogs. Books. Bookstores.
The Internet. For being the instrument by which I found the Love Of My Life. For bringing me my son-in-law. For opening the world to me and bringing me friends I could never have dreamed of having.
DVRs.
Podcasts.
Science.
Medicine. People whose curiosity, discoveries, dedication, and skill means that I am still alive and walking around with a miniature computer in my chest that keeps my repaired heart functioning smoothly. It’s pretty nice to be alive, first of all, and, secondly, not have to stop to catch my breath every 100 paces.
My readers. For some reason, you keep coming back. You honor me.
The greatest of these are the critters. Home is a place where dogs safely sleep. If there’s no dog, it’s not a home — it’s just a place where you spend time.