If we are lucky, it can be hard to name what we’re grateful for at the Thanksgiving table.
If you grew up with close siblings, you know the strategy I wish I could use.
How do I cut my love into microscopically perfect, even-steven pieces?
How can I stand eye-level with each person that matters to me and make sure I’m putting the same amount of gratitude into each of their cups, just as painstakingly as I once split ice cream with my sister?
For most, the amount of time people have with their parents and siblings decreases dramatically after age 20. And as life moves on, the average person loses half their friends about every seven years.
Because, unfortunately, life is too messy for even-steven.
There will be people you love who won’t be able to hear your gratitude this holiday, and there will be people who hear it this year but won’t in the next.
The best way to find peace with that terrible knowledge is to tell the people you love that you love them every time you see them. If you can’t say it, show it.
But if you can’t show it either – and for some people, you simply won’t be able to – think it. You can choose to feel gratitude no matter where or when you are.
That thankfulness still has power, and always will, because the people and memories you’ve loved linger in your book of life like pressed flowers.
In my book, some flowers are pristinely preserved. I can flip to them and thank them anytime I like.
There are lilies from my mother’s garden, wildflowers from my father’s hikes and cherry blossoms from my partner’s kisses. There are older flowers for watercolors and mermaids in the bathtub, fresher blooms for study nights and Instagram reels. There are petals for sled rides, salted popcorn, UNO and whispers before bedtime.
Some of my other flowers have crumbled or slipped out from my pages, but I’m grateful for the residue of them, and the feeling I had when I first pressed them in.
I am lucky for the whole bouquet, and I know yours is just as fragrant.
You won’t need to pick just one recipient for your gratitude at Thanksgiving, passed over the mashed potatoes, and you won’t be able to name all the gratitude you have.
But you can open your book and flip through your pages. What treasures have you closed inside?
