gobble

I am not sure why we require a holiday to remember to be thankful - and yet I know I can be as guilty of it as the next person - getting caught up in the daily grind, forgetting my everyday abundance of good fortune, and then feeling generally ashamed that I require a prompt to acknowledge the obvious. So instead of waxing on about my everyday richness, good health, a loving family, and so forth, I'd rather bring you this:

To the bevy of women (and occasional man) that I didn't know existed a year ago: You tremendously supportive, articulate, hilarious and powerful writers, you are what I am thankful for today.

I feel genuine love for so many of you. I eagerly clickity clack on over to you each day, excited to see what you've come up with, ways to learn from your wisdom, sending solace when you are aching, or laughing at your wit. I have become involved in your lives, and I find that what you do and say matters a great deal.

So, as I slyly tilt my head towards the right side of my screen and coyly, under half lidded eyes gaze in your direction I become increasingly wide eyed and captivated - you, and then more of you, is what I am thankful for today.

Thank you for shining light into dark corners, for your keen wit, your depth of beauty, and for your willingness to meet me in the middle.

It's come to matter more than you know. So I bring flowers in gratitude, all the way from a little spot in Cambodia, just for you.