When my brother was little and not jazzed about eating dinner, he’d say, “I didn’t order this.” My mother, being an overaccommodater, would sweep in and replace the offending item. You have probably noticed that life by and large does not work like this. If the role of my mother were being played by life, she would have either ignored him or been like, “Eat it anyway. By the way, I’m going to arrange things so you’ll need your first colonoscopy at 33!” (Which, my instinct to find the silver lining is prompting me to say, is way better than needing a colonoscopy and NOT getting one at 33.)

That silver lining instinct deserted me the other day when my daughter and husband and I went to an outdoor birthday party. Was I grateful that we were all healthy, albeit masked, and able to enjoy a beautiful day in the autumn sun? Was I appreciative that my daughter was invited to this thoughtful little soirée, where the special guest was a jewel-masked Elsa and the craft was make-your-own glitter slime with individually wrapped ingredient bags?

I mean, yeah. Sure. Absolutely. But I was also eyeing the host-mom’s impossibly slender figure, which was encircled by the adorably chubby arms and legs of her toddler. In the season of gratitude and thankfulness, I had thin envy and second-child envy. Thenvy and chenvy, if you will, both directed at the same time at the same person, who by the way seems to be a very lovely human being. Since I was already on the downslope I went ahead and compared their house to ours (theirs is bigger), their yard to ours (more cool toys in theirs) and even their outdoor living room to ours (wait, I didn’t, because we have no such thing).  Y’all, I am WINNING at Thanksgiving!

To keep the winning steak going, the next day I called my parents and un-invited them from coming for the holiday. And by “keep the winning streak going” I mean “leaked tears from my heart while feeling like the Grinch”. Because I basically threw a dagger into my mom’s loving eagerness to come see us. Because of stupid effing corona. 

On the scale of sacrifices for coronavirus, it’s a small one. I know. But my heart is still sad. 

In this weird season of thanks amid loss and uncertainty and loneliness, I don’t have a fix. So I’m going to try to light some candles of gratitude instead. You can light yours too – it’ll be a socially distant game! Picture a wonderfully mismatched un-set here, some tall and elegant in candelabras and some aromatic and comforting and some a sloppy mishmash of color and lumps like a preschooler’s art project. I am lighting this beautiful motley crew of candles for….

1. My mom, who wrapped me snugly in love the day I was born and has never let go. 
2. The fact that no feral cats are currently hiding anywhere inside my house. You might take this as a given. You have clearly never lived in my house, at least not during the unfortunate periods where my husband or I (AND IT WAS ALL HIM THE SECOND TIME) acted on a misguided hunch that love and gourmet cat food can tame fully grown ferals.
3. Speaking of the ferals, they are now fixed and back in their colony and NOT HIDING IN THE CRAWL SPACE IN MY BASEMENT FORCING US TO STARVE THEM AND THEN TRAP THEM TO GET THEM OUT OF THE CEILING OF THE LAUNDRY ROOM. Everything worked out ok! For us and the feral cats! Now if that’s not the spirit of Thanksgiving, Virginia, I just don’t know what is. Next gratitude candle for….
4. Sweet, creamy perfection of the yummiest vanilla ice cream. I’m looking at you, Jeni’s Sweet Cream and Breyer’s Natural Vanilla.
5. My neighbors. Absolutely everyone will let you borrow a cup of sugar and more likely than not get into a longer-than-planned conversation when you go pick it up, before sending you home with produce from their garden. 
6. Being able to feel hope. As a recovering perfectionist, I’ve had to learn this one. But now even on my dark days, I can feel a little canary perching resiliently inside my chest. In an Emily Dickinson kind of way…..not a swallowing-animals-whole kind of way. 
7. My colonoscopy at age 33. Ha, that’s right, it wasn’t my brother who got this gem, it was me! And I’m grateful for it. Because a) it’s not really that bad and b) I had a nasty thing called a serrated adenoma, that could have become muuuuch nastier had I not gotten my insides scoped at such a tender age. 
8. Figure skating. My weird-for-a-grown-up hobby and I LOVE it. 
9. The most fabulous musicals! Maria of Sound of Music fame and Tevye from Fiddler, I will never be too busy to sing a chorus with you.
10. My husband, who understands and even celebrates my strange blend of creative, nerdy and ridiculous. He’s cooler than me, but I try to do the same for him.
11. My daughter, and walking alongside her as she grows into her own person and discovers what rings her happiness bell. Her things are completely different from my things and somehow that’s even more amazing, watching her find her joy in extinct animals, Winnebagos and playing soccer goalie. 

Whew! I could keep going but I believe it’s YOUR turn now. See the comments below – hit ‘em up! What weird little things are you thankful for?

P.S. This game is more fun and uplifting and easy than I thought so….Bonus list!! 12. Bathrobes. 13. Pedicures (without the little fish). 14. Thunderstorms. 15. Tomato juice on airplanes. 16. Grandparents  17. ALL the fall holidays 18. The color blue 19. Speaking in the voice of weird characters and the friends who allow me to do so 20. Unexpected gift cards 21. Storytelling night…..like Carapace at Manuel’s Tavern

Damn it, I just completely stepped on your game-playing toes there. I’m so sorry. Really stopping now. So tell me – how bout YOU?? What are your weird little thankfuls?

Photo credits: doctor from Free-Photos at Pixabay and the rest homegrown.