It’s Thanksgiving, so I want to write you a praise poem, but my mind is on baking our tiny ham before we leave for my sister-in-law’s house. This is my favorite long weekend of the year, all this thanks and open space for being with my family. Yesterday I went to see “Justice League” with Liz, took a walk with Chris (and stopped off at the Alehouse, too), and listened to KK and her friends as I fell asleep a floor above their sleepover gathering.
That’s a thanks poem — almost, OK, not really. I already posted a Praise Poem here recently. So I dug through some old documents, hoping to post an old poem. But old poems, oy, they make me want to edit. How can I edit when I need to collect up the cranberry ingredients? And bake the ham?
So I found a two-line poem that screams satisfaction. (OK, not really, I still want to edit it. But I’m leaving it as I found it anyway.) I’m posting that alongside a few quotes that are taped to my desk. I don’t often really see these words, but maybe some random reader needs to see them today. Happy Thanksgiving. Thanks for reading my words. My connection to you really matters to me.
Why not go lay in the grass?
“Just because someone isn’t willing or able to love us, it doesn’t mean we are unlovable.” –Brene Brown
“This path, this road that is one perfect straight line even if it goes around the world though heat and fog and rain and snow and it’s my life I keep thinking. It’s my life.” –Deborah Keenan, from “Small History”