This is the time of year when one is supposed to stop and contemplate what one is thankful for. Thanksgiving itself falls at the end of November and is closely followed by the triumvirate of religious holidays Christmas, Hanukkah, and Kwanza. And then New Year with its resolutions. Not to mention my birthday at the beginning of December. So many opportunities to take stock.
So here’s my attempt to gauge the extent of my gratitude for what I have.
· The support and love of my family, friends, and husband.
· The health and strength of myself and my loved ones.
· Having enough paid work to keep body and soul together.
· My genes, which have given me positivity, drive, and a can-do attitude from my Dad, creativity, empathy, and common sense from my Mum, and a sense of humor from both.
· My passion for writing, which, even when I’m unable to indulge it for long periods of time, never ceases to make me happy. When I discover a new way to solve a narrative problem or when I find the right rhythm to a sentence after many tries. When a character takes an unexpected turn that turns out to be exactly in character or a scene comes together with depth and texture that has come from my deepest imagination.
I will be making up stories till I die. It is what I do and who I am, regardless of whether anyone ever reads a word that I write. And I am profoundly, eternally grateful for that.
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