Thanksgiving

The world is either raging or talking about gratitude right now. I understand both. I realize I cannot ignore the reasons people are raging, but I also know the simple act of doing that will not improve my life, or really anyone elses. So, I have decided to write about gratitude.

Trying to think about gratitude at its most basic core is difficult. Maybe gratitude is not supposed to be ranked, or sectioned off, but some things evoke stronger feelings than others and . . . I have to start somewhere.

I think that perhaps the thing I am most grateful for is my past and the fact that I remember so much of it from such an early age.

I believe these are actual memories because of the angle I remember them. Some of them precede my second birthday and move on from there.

My life reminds me of a turtle living without its shell. The joys and pain of situations never felt insulated to me growing up. I picked up on my feelings and my mother's with all of the fervor of a child who began thinking quite early.

I like to think I learn from this gift of remembering and don't just suffer from it. I know that I am not some bacteria in a petri dish being helplessly subjected to living.

I have the ability to direct, if not always control, most things that happen to me and that comes from years of trial and error.

I am grateful I remember all these adventures.