I had thought that if I was able to find a few moments to write today, that it would be to write an entry full of “I am thankful for A, I am grateful for B…” A laundry list of gratitude.
Last night — or more accurately, very early this morning — I woke up. Wide awake, staring at the ceiling, tossing & turning, trying desperately to ignore the slight hunger pains and my mind’s bizarre instance that I must have apple slices this very instance, or else.
Eventually, I gave in, grabbed my glasses from my nightstand, and headed for the kitchen. If it was to be a long, sleepless night, I might as well get my apple fix.
Deciding that I might as well take advantage of this unexpected quiet time to catch up with a few of my favorite blogs, I prepared my snack and settled down in front of the computer. I read, I laughed, I teared up at times…and I snacked, of course. And then I opened up a new post on my own blog, intending to write the obligatory Thanksgiving “I-am-thankful” post.
Before my fingers touched the keyboard, there was a noise from down the hall. A sudden, brief yelp, some sleep-garbled words, a soft sob…then silence. I hovered, waiting, not breathing not moving not making a sound, hoping he’d drift back off to sleep on his own.
No such luck. From Shane’s bedroom came a shaky, teary cry. “Mommy? Mommy! I neeeeeeeed my Mommy!”
Curled up beside him in his twin bed, our foreheads touching, with his arms holding me tight — one draped over my neck, the other hand sneaking under to tangle in my hair — I shushed and murmured and soothed the tears and nighttime fears away.
Gradually, his breathing slowed and steadied, his grasp in my hair loosened, and the tension eased from his body as his arm grew heavy and limp across my neck. He nuzzled close, legs drawn up so his shins rested against the curve of my stomach. I nuzzled close, curling my body protectively around his, and breathed him in.
My baby thumped and squirmed in my womb, and my child sighed and slumbered in my arms.
I felt pure happiness.
There, in the dark, in the silence, it struck me. I don’t have a vast, exhaustive list of things I’m thankful for. It’s much simpler, and so much bigger, than any list could cover.
There, in the dark, I was thankful for this quiet moment.
I’m thankful for today, for the here and now,
and I’m thankful for all the little moments that make up my todays.