We made it back home safely. After bouncing about in hotel rooms and a number of different beds within the span of a week, we are back to a house that although may not fully be ours, is definitely home; for now. Back to a bed that probably isn't as comfortable as the fluff and tuft of crisp white 1500 count cotton sheets we slept in, but is where we snuggle in as a family, taupe duvet, floral pillows, milk stains and all. Back to our lovely clutter of hellish laundry - the aftermath of a week's worth for the three of us.
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| Mt. Shasta LOVES you. It's such a joy to see symbols in nature - at least what we make of it. This was in no way photo shopped to shape out a heart - it really was there! |
Although the drive was long, Mandarin slept, played, read (well not really read but looked through her books) and watched Mickey Mouse and Little Einstein, and alphabet phonics on our makeshift tablet / player. We were pummeled with rain and fog and extremely terrible standstill holiday traffic (12 hours to Seattle from Jacksonville, Oregon) and chilly temperatures that made you fluff up your feathers for a little more warmth.
I really meant to blog on the road but found the schedule too hectic, (coughing) toddler in hand and oh just about 35 people celebrating Thanksgiving in a lovely town just twenty minutes off Seattle. Somewhere between soaking in small town charms, long drives, ferry rides, precious baby nap times, eating copious amounts of stuffing, turkey, roast beef, pies and WA state micro brews, I lost time for myself and found that if you surrender to the tide you learn how to drift through the joyful chaos.
And while we did have a fantastic time, there wasn't much time for a gratitude time-out. To stand in the corner and quit complaining that we had to wake up far too early, sleep late, maybe not sleep at all, wear fifty layers of clothes, get cold and work up a sweat shortly after, and not have much time to sit back and relax and pretty much do nothing. Knock back a few good IPA beers and sing Pearl Jam's Breath until I hit all of Eddie's notes. Or lose my voice. Whichever comes first.
What does it take to be happily satiated?
I will not pretend to know the answer to this question. It seems that in everything that I do or anywhere I go there is always a certain time when that pinch of loneliness, a shadow of darkness, an echo that sounds off from a place that I am familiar with but cannot exactly find, comes up to the surface and reminds me that it's there. And it's not because I am not thankful. I'm not sure why it's there, but it is and has been a part of who I am for as far back as I can remember. It may be the voice of shifting hormones or sadness or PMS that momentarily shifts my perspective and empties me of the sense of appreciation.
The point is; it doesn't matter what you don't have. What I don't have. Siblings (I envy those with siblings...damn only-child-syndrome ), a house, a decent shoe rack, financial freedom, a Balenciaga Bag and Kim Kardashian's engagement rock ring.
Now that we're back home, I've had time to reflect as the dust settles from our tracks. It is easy to give thanks, sure. Thank you for the food on our table. Thank you for clothes that keep us warm. But to be thankful with meaning, to feel fortunate way down and deep in your gut for the good things you have going for you. That's a challenge because, frankly, it's much easier to complain.
What matters is what is actually there. Here and now. My parents, my besties (M & A), my closest cousins, our closest friends, uncles and aunts, a home, Mandarin memories, a kind and loving husband (who thankfully, really is my best friend of many many many years), a worn-out Steve Madden cross body that does the job, and a little girl that delicately whispers a most amiable "uh-oh" right before she nods off to sleep. There it is, straight from the gut.
♥ More photos from the trip to follow! ♥
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