My early-morning running routine has taken an arctic turn and you shouldn't be surprised to learn that my whines have equalled the number of layers required for my finicky body to fight off hypothermia. My weekly miles have been shrinking along with my ambition because frankly, I'm freezing, and a cold Heather is usually a grumpy Heather. But that's why a few mornings ago it surprised me when the tears rolling down my cheeks were from the ocean of gratitude instead of a murkier source. As I walked around my quiet neighborhood, bundled like a baby, I couldn't get over the vivid reds and oranges and yellows painted through the trees and before I knew it the beauty of this earth and my ability to live on it caused me to weep. It's been 17 years since I last lived in Sacramento and does a teenager ever really appreciate the magnificence of their hometown? Well, this one didn't. But I think now I do. This year, for the first time maybe ever, I'm looking around and feeling gratitude down to my core for the passing seasons, for the colorful trees, for my life and family and our home. The cold, I fear, will never be my favorite but am I willing to experience it in order to see those leaves become fireworks? I think I am. #givethanks
No comments:
Post a Comment