I’ve made it a habit to write before dinner… and I’ve stayed consistent with it now for a month or two. And what I haven’t been doing a good job of is reminding the person cooking it how grateful I am for their efforts. They take the time from their evening to expend their effort to cook a delicious and healthy meal for the two of us. She doesn’t have to do it, but she does.
I just woof it down, say thanks, and go about my evening. I should be taking a moment before each meal and telling the world how lucky and grateful I am. I didn’t hunt the animal, I didn’t butcher it, I didn’t even cook the damn thing! We just buy it from a store, throw some seasoning on it, and chow down.
That’s not a good look. Here I am, spouting off at the mouth about how grateful I am for everything and how I count it out on my toes in the morning, being grateful for each breath, blah blah blah…but I’m not taking the time to tell someone else how damn grateful I am that while I write, she cooks.
What a girl. Selfless. And damn, she’s an amazing chef too.
It’s a good reminder that we can never be too grateful, it’s easy to slip. There’s always something to take from any situation. It could just boil down to having a good story at the end of a really shitty ordeal. My toe got smashed against cement over the weekend…twice. The same toe too. The first time hurt, but not a big deal since it didn’t break. The second time though… blood. Blood everywhere. It was like my toe turned into a red-water faucet. What are the chances? I have 10 toes that could have gotten smashed, why did it happen again on the same toe? Do I subconsciously love pain? It’s possible since my reaction was to sit down and start laughing. Just a moment of disbelief, especially since we were visiting someone who had just split his finger open with a skill saw. Why, of all places, on all the days, OF ALL THE TOES…did this happen?
There’s meaning there. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s there. Am I supposed to learn that doing the same thing over and over again is insanity? And insanity causes pain? Pain shouldn’t be funny? Or maybe I just need to get some new flip-flops? That’s the practical lesson I’m going to take from it. Less metaphor and safer all around.
But I guess I had to know how seriously fucked up my flipflops were to know to get rid of them…and this is why. With a broken flipflop, you can cause yourself a lot of pain.
And again, here I am rambling about some missteps I took over the weekend while the girl that was there to clean up all the blood just got a quick “thanks.” I’m really better about this than I say I am, but it’s important to tell our supporting cast how much they mean to us. Without her to clean it up, patch me up, and talk with me, that could have been taken much differently.
At the end of the day, they might know, but just like when we list off things we’re grateful for and say them to ourselves, it’s important to say them out loud to the souls around you. Spread the gratefulness. Let them know why you appreciate them, it could mean the world to them that day.
Dinner’s ready. Thank YOU for reading. And yes, she’s getting a big, expressive “thank you.”