giving thanks.

kitchen window detail

there are moments when i can't get over how incredibly fortunate i am.

when the sheer weight of all the blessings in my life is almost too much to bear.

and so i find myself sending up silent prayer after silent prayer. giving thanks.

thanks for mornings in the kitchen, here in my childhood home. the streaming light and marble countertops.

for time with my mother. in the car. running errands. talking about all the things that mothers and daughters talk about. for the habit and comfort of it.

thanks for my father. and the fact that he drags me to the gym with him. and plops 5 lb. barbells in my hands as i walk on the treadmill.

thanks for parents who rally around me. protect me when they sense it is needed.

for nights out to new italian restaurants. and nights in watching silly television.

for the comfort of the tree-lined streets and blazing-heat.

for a home i can always return to. a cocoon of love and safe-keeping.

and the freedom to leave. and live my life. mistakes and all.