November 16: Tim Nolan, "Thanksgiving," Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving

by:  Tim Nolan

Thanks for the Italian chestnuts—with their

tough shells—the smooth chocolaty

skin of them—thanks for the boiling water—

itself a miracle and a mystery—

thanks for the seasoned sauce pan

and the old wooden spoon—and all

the neglected instruments in the drawer—

the garlic crusher—the bent paring knife—

the apple slicer that creates six

perfect wedges out of the crisp Haralson—

thanks for the humming radio—thanks

for the program on the radio

about the guy who was a cross-dresser—

but his wife forgave him—and he

ended up almost dying from leukemia—

(and you could tell his wife loved him

entirely—it was in her deliberate voice)—

thanks for the brined turkey—

the size of a big baby—thanks—

for the departed head of the turkey—

the present neck—the giblets

(whatever they are)—wrapped up as

small gifts inside the cavern of the ribs—

thanks—thanks—thanks—for the candles

lit on the table—the dried twigs—

the autumn leaves in the blue Chinese vase—

thanks—for the faces—our faces—in this low light.

_________________________

I'm going to focus on thankfulness for the next few days.  It feels as though I haven't been really appreciating the blessings in my life recently.  My wife and kids.  My work.  Teaching.  The beauty of first snows.  Laughter.  A good ham sandwich.

So, tonight, I want to say thanks to everyone who reads this blog.  I don't know who you are (or maybe I do).  Whatever the reason, however you stumbled upon this particular post, thanks for spending some time with me.

Saint Marty is blessed by your time and your attention.