Thankful for L-O-V-E

In Honduras, last Thanksgiving, I made creamed potatoes and honey cornbread and, alongside my buddy Andrew, trekked from my little town of Guaimaca to the much larger Comayagua, where we met up with eight other Peace Corps Volunteers. It was a vegetarian feast, during which we sat on the floor of Monica's apartment and took turns telling each other what we were thankful for. That will probably be my most fulfilling Thanksgiving meal for years and years to come.

This year, in a surprise turn of events, I'm in Chattanooga, Tennessee. I spent the day at my uncle's house, chatting with family, and then visited my father's house to see his side of my family. My favorite moment was sitting at the dining room table with my younger brother and sister, of whom I'm so proud, eating homemade pie. Just the three of us, talking like friends, like siblings. I love them so much.

Today I spent with my dear friend, Flo, whose family moved to town when we were 8-years-old and who immediately captured my imagination simply by being the new kid in school. I had never lived anywhere other than Chattanooga and she had moved from Illinois. Illinois! I had thought, How exotic! I wanted to know everything about what it was like to live in Illinois. I was further excited to hear that prior to Illinois, her family was in California, and prior to that they lived in their native Uganda, the Heart of Africa. She was by far the most interesting person I'd ever met. 

We used to sit on the playground and reorganize our Trapper-Keepers during recess. She introduced me to the New Kids on the Block and she was always my jump-rope partner for Field Day. We've been friends now for 22 years. Her gorgeous smile and the contagious laughter of her boisterous family always lift my spirits. It doesn't matter how much time passes between our visits, we always pick up where we left off.

Instead of exploring each others' Trapper-Keepers, this afternoon, we looked at each others' e-readers and shared favorite books with each other. Flo is an avid reader, travel enthusiast, professional editor and amazing writer. (You can check out her book review blog called Book Nerds Across America.) 

More than anything, I'm grateful for my loved ones and I'm grateful that those same people also love me. In the end, that's all that matters.

10 years from this question...

Martha Beck, whose book I'm thoroughly enjoying, suggests an exercise in which her readers and clients close their eyes and visualize themselves 10 years into the future. Start by calculating your age 10 years from now and the ages of the people closest to you, and "see" the scene or snapshot from your own point of view. Describe your immediate environment--colors, sounds, smells, temperature, etc. Be as sensory as possible so you can really feel it. Martha Beck has been a life-coach for much of her career and this method has proven to be "amazingly accurate" in what people see in their own futures.

I decided to give it a try...


I'm a happy, healthy 40-year-old at a busy outdoor market on a late-October day in a European town. A fresh water scent fills the air, softly assuring the presence of a nearby river. Although the day is overcast, I love every step I take on the cobblestoned streets. I'm wearing the dark brown boots I bought in Amsterdam, a beige sweater and a colorful scarf to protect me from autumn's chill. Something about the scene feels very holiday-ish.

I'm in a tent where candles are sold in glass jars with ribbons tied around the top. I'm torn about whether or not I should by a pink candle. Or maybe an orange cinnamin-spice candle would be more seasonally appropriate. Soft music plays in the background. The heaters warm me and I raise my gaze to look for a friend to consult.

Directly in front of me is a woman, in her late-30s, with long dark hair who doesn't notice me staring at her. Though visibly pregnant, she looks beautiful and vivacious as she discusses various items with the people around her, rapidly speaking some European language. I feel sisterly love and admiration of her. "Alicia!" she calls for me to join them.

A tall, bright-eyed man with great hair and a navy sweater puts his warm hand around mine and whispers to me. I crack up, rolling my eyes at his joke, and feel a sense of family.

We stroll along...

Words

Stiff in the softness of my bed,
Words billowing across my consciousness--
Delicate words, short words, elaborate words, sexy words, hard words.
I wish I knew more words!

What would I do
If words bowed at my command?
I'd charm princes,
Study at any university of my choosing,
Solve awkward familial troubles and
Sooth all misunderstanding.

Speak perfect Central American Spanish
And beautiful French
That'd make my own heart
Melt like butter.
Draw exquisitely soft
Chinese calligraphic characters,
Slow stroke, swift curl,

Oh words! Spill your love upon me!
Lend yourselves not to lies and deceit!
Leave voiceless those who would bring harm,
For no voice is no power.

Show me your meaning!

It's impossible to tell you mine.