A Thanksgiving Poem

I am thankful for the house my parents bought with the yellow shutters.

The screened in porch. The backyard.

My Mother's violin playing echoing through the walls up the stairs to my morning glory-decorated wallpapered bedroom.

The basement with the secret hiding places and later a ping-pong table.

The den with my father's 'blue chair' he sat in drinking his coffee and reading the Sunday paper.

My sister's bed she let me climb into when I was scared of sleeping alone.

The piano.

The love my parents gave me. The lessons my sister taught me. The boredom I experienced as a teenager anxious to learn about the world. The world outside of the house with the yellow shutters and the screened in porch and the violin playing. The piano.

I am thankful for the front door. And the opening of it. The walking outside into the fresh New England air. On my own. Walking out and seeing who I might become.

I am thankful for my becoming. An adult. A woman. An Explorer.

I am thankful for the oceans. The Atlantic and the Pacific. And the fact that I have dipped my feet in both and laughed in the midst of both.

And the violin playing in the back of my head with the love of my parents in my heart and in my toes.

The salt water cleaning the bottoms of my feet.

I am thankful.