I realized recently I hadn’t written about gratitude this season, though I pause often—daily, even—to appreciate the people, things, and experiences that color my life. But this year, gratitude feels different.
For thirty-four years, I’ve shared these thoughts within a school community. Now, I’m untethered, speaking mostly to myself—and to you. Adding to the mix, my family is scattered across thousands of miles. The love remains steady, but their absence has reshaped and distilled this sense of clarity and connection. Gratitude abounds, but it’s taking a quieter, more introspective form this year.
When I find myself in this reflective mode, I turn to tools that help ground me. I turned to an old friend: the Tarot deck gifted by someone dear, who passed in 2017 on Valentine’s Day—fitting, given her dramatic flair. The first card I pulled? The Hermit. A seeker of solitude, introspection, and wisdom. The Hermit dives inward to find not just answers but the questions that lead to them. It’s Jeopardy! for the soul.
Fitting, too, as I’d just finished setting up my new apartment—a project blending practicality, frustration, and humor. Case in point: the rolling TV stand of 2007 (an era when TVs weighed as much as compact cars) and the elusive Holy Grail of dining tables.
My quest for a secondhand table became a saga: endless Facebook Marketplace searches, dashed hopes, and, eventually, a begrudging purchase from Bed, Bath & Beyond (aren’t they defunct?) online. The sleek table arrived in two enormous boxes, assembly instructions mocking my competence. Just when the chaos settled, I discovered I’d mistakenly put together someone else’s chairs. Naturally.
After a comic series of wrong-box drama, endless calls to customer service, and a sheepish exchange with my neighbor Chrisshawn, everything was sorted. Chrisshawn, as it turns out, played football with another Brian Thomas, who’s now in the NFL. Small world. Chrisshawn now drives big rigs and was more than appreciative to finally get his chairs that he didn’t have to assemble.
The mishaps and misadventures reminded me that belonging doesn’t require perfection. My apartment is finished, my community—however scattered—is present, and my connection to myself feels stronger. Gratitude flows not despite the chaos and best intentions but because of them.
How grateful I am to be here, now, with you.
Curated Listening:
Dionne Warwick’s “What the World Needs Now” feels just right. Play it loud: HERE.