Nothing Short of Thankful

It's the little things in life I like to be thankful for, mostly because being thankful for the big things opens up a whole world of guilt and questioning of grace and a perpetual crisis of faith triggered by the undeserved and under-utilized goodness inherent in my life. A smile or a Facebook message when I was feeling low? Acceptable blessings. A solid home life and a position in a society bent in my favor providing for my every whim? An unfathomable blessing that brings up troubling questions.

So today, I'm thankful for my french press. Cheaper than a coffee maker, unobtrusive, and makes me feel extraordinarily European when I'm getting my caffeine fix for the hour. 

I'm thankful for my fairy lights, making my room feel magical and whimsical and homey.

I'm thankful for chili and cornbread and friends and wine and a surprisingly efficient public transportation system.

I'm thankful for my boots, bought after a marathon brunch in New York City, broken in while climbing Scottish hills, and now as comfortable on my feet as flip-flops at the end of the summer.

I'm thankful for Night Vale, for its weird and wonderful stories, for its comforting voice and its challenging subtexts. 

I'm beyond thankful for my ukulele and for singing. I think music is actually one of those huge boons from a benevolent deity, an undeserved gift that gives me hope that maybe the world is actually good, after all. 

I'm thankful for sunny skies, farmer's markets, and friends to enjoy them with.

I'm thankful for overcast skies and orange tree leaves and the quietness of fall. 

I'm thankful for books. And albums. And DVDs. And rings. And mead.

I'm thankful for happiness, for an uncomplicated, unencumbered, expectation-less simple contentment, humming to myself while the world whirrs around me. 

I'm thankful for today. And tomorrow, when it comes.