Enter the season of Thanksgiving. Time to get our gratitude on. My list is long – I’ve been swimming in gravy. It’s not been any one event or experience that makes it so, just a steady succession of little stoke-filled moments that encapsulate a life worth loving. Most of these pleasure pills have been poured into my welcoming palms by people –old friends and new – who, in plain but weighty ways, show me how good and beautiful simple connections can be. I like to be moved, and these folks stir me strong. As you inventory the things to spread out on the table November 26th, register the treats that lay ahead and behind. Nibble hungrily upon the notion of joy, laughter, kindness, patience, love. Feed the beast.

This is my menu of thanks. Like any memorable meal, it must be shared. What do you serve up?

Here’s to ever only together --
To a sister who catches all the things I miss,
To a mother who mirrors a way to gain more within after without you become.
To the dream that is my own children, the ones who raise and make me whole.
To the hero, who fell for mom and painted our first picture of family.
I send love out to all the branches of my heart:
To the muses and mischief makers of Middle Path, who keep me playing on volume eleven;
To the brethren of an Aspen campfire, do me proud;
To that band of crazy fearless warriors that fought fierce and brought light;
To the friends who listen, pour wine, let me dance, watch me weep, and make me giggle.
You should know.
Angels are winged wishes and chance blessings, crossing our lines of repose.
Flash them the whites of your smiles. I cannot lose the chance to admire their mysterious arcs.
Just so, they come, don’t go.
To the Redskin fan, who taught me the ocean, I send endless summers;
To the poet of instant recognition, I pledge radiant goodness;
To the musician of sidewalk compassion, a moment makes a lion.
You should know.
And you too, Lollipop and Karamia, who let me practice the lines I have learned aloud.
To a love who wants to be the exception, rules are made to be broken. You should know.

Love, Tamsin Follow me on Twitter