A prayer of thanksgiving

On the day before Thanksgiving a couple of years back, I posted the material below in another forum, and I've reposted it here each year since. It's a little more, erm, sentimental than is my wont, but even an overalls-wearing, great-books-thumping, "mommy-blog"-disdaining curmudgeon can have a soft side.

Here's a glimpse of mine.
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During these last few days before Thanksgiving, I find that in addition to the obvious — my family, my health, my husband’s job and my own — I am thankful for a collection of ordinary and obvious things, as well as a few things less likely to make their way into the typical Thanksgiving prayer.

Thank you for my books — the bookcases, shelves, leaning piles, and overstuffed baskets of them; for the stacks and lists and reading plans; for the bookmarks poking from dozens of them at a time; for the worlds that exist in my home because of them; for the smell of them, even for the dust they attract.

Thank you for Chlorox wipes. In one pass, they clean and disinfect. They make the place smell good. They save me a boatload of time.

Thank you for my vacuum cleaner. It’s not fancy or expensive. It has only a few attachments. Its cord is a little too short, and it’s rather loud. But nothing says, “This home is in order!” like the smell of the apples and cinnamon potpourri wafting from my vacuum’s fresh bag as I make neat, straight tracks on each room’s rug.

Thank you for freshly sharpened pencils and the nifty “industrial strength” sharpener that has not let us down once in four years.

Thank you for dollar stores and the dollar aisles of Jewel and Target.

Thank you for all of the science experiments that failed; they taught us so much.

Thank you for the few that succeeded; they enchanted and encouraged us.

Thank you for IKEA. Why must every other furniture store charge so much for bookshelves?

Thank you for DSL.

Thank you for a job with a company that pays for DSL.

Thank you for museums, parks, and libraries.

Thank you for overalls... and Birkenstocks... thick cotton socks and deliciously warm wool sweaters. And a husband who thinks this is a good look.

Thank you for Super Pretzels. Who would have known they would become a family ritual? Cheddar cheese, pretzels, and juice? It must be 11 a.m. at our house.

Thank you for virtual living rooms and kitchens and porches where I can talk and listen and learn.

Thank you for Shakespeare.

And the UPS truck.

And our mailman.

And Amazon.com.

Thank you for bringing me “pen-pals” at my advanced age. Who could have guessed how much I would enjoy knowing that I have mail?

Thank you for Mountain Dew and Trader Joe’s French roast. And Ritter Sport. And M&Ms. And Dove chocolate. Hmmm.

Thank you for Chicago, a magnificent city.

Thank you for the way my children smell at night, after their baths; for their sleep-softened cheeks and the way they stir just a little when I lean in to kiss them on my 3 a.m. rounds.

Thank you for Latin. And logic. And philosophy. And everything that makes me think. Hard and long and in ways unfamiliar.

Thank you for children who have grown wise but not old before their years, who share many of my interests and who introduce me to new pursuits and new ways of seeing.

Thank you for central air-conditioning. How did I pass nine summers without it?

Thank you for an enduring marriage. They say it’s part luck, part work. Thank you for my good luck and his hard work.

Thank you for the color the sky gets on sunny October days. Some of it drizzled into my oldest and youngest children’s eyes. What a color!

Thank you for the half dozen times I reached into one or another jacket pocket and drew out a $5, $10, or $20 bill. Yes, I should be more careful of my money, but, oh, what a delightful “discovery”!

Thank you for all of the moments and acts and words and pauses that are this life and not some other.

Thank you... for everything.