45 years of Thanksgivings. No two have been the same in my adult life. The things I’ve been thankful for have evolved over the years, as well. I don’t participate in 30 days of Thankfulness posts anymore, but I do text 3 things every day to my friends dear Emily and sweet Cynthia. 
Here is an incomplete list, but 45 is a good start. Not in order of importance. 
• My routine. Some days are harder than others. It’s good to have a plan of action to address the day and a basic timeline of how it will play out when it’s a struggle to get out of bed and face the day. Some people’s schedules stay up in the air as they are jerked about for the latest pressing need. I used to thrive in that type of environment but I much prefer the way my life is now. If I’ve got a clear focus on where to start, what needs doing, it’s like puzzle pieces clicking into place. Sometimes the hardest part is getting started. It’s good to have responsibilities.
• Social media. I just messaged a friend who has been absent on Facebook for a few months. I miss her. I don’t have her phone number or address (yes, I would totally send a card). We haven’t been close since middle school, but it’s funny how you become attached over the years just from sharing relatable memes and the snapshots of living.
Social media brought us together and can keep us in touch if we so desire. Plus, since I don’t watch TV, it’s a way to keep up with the news, at my pace, with limitations I can enforce. 
• My cousin. She makes an effort to get together throughout the year. Her schedule as a photographer is a bit skewed, so I leave it to her to reach out. She knows I’m generally available. She could have very easily written me off years ago, making assumptions about where my alliances fall in terms of family. She didn’t, and we are very close now and I am so glad. And I always loved her daddy, who would also be unavailable to me if it weren’t for Chels. 
• My friend Kay. She has been invaluable to me since the summer of 2018. She started as “just a customer”, as many of y’all did. Now we see each other a few times a month and chat through the week. She is chock full of great advice, hilarious escapades, and recipes. I love her dearly and she always cheers me up ❤️
• The library and my ability to read. I couldn’t afford to buy all the books I read. And thanks to the library, I don’t need to. I download them via the Libby app, which gives me access to all the books owned by public libraries across the state. I read them on my iPad, so I don’t even need great lighting anymore. I can’t imagine going through life illiterate. And I can’t imagine a world without books. Another perk is the library board. It keeps me invested and up to date about all the goings on so when people say, “Oh, I thought the library was just books,” I can give them a 30 minute lecture 😉
• The right to vote. Thank you to the abolitionists in the 1920’s who petitioned and fought and gave me a voice. Voting is one of my very favorite things to do. I think I’ve only missed one election, and that was because Charlie Temple said he got my registration turned in, but he obviously didn’t. It cost him my vote in subsequent years.
• Being a Southerner. I’m proud to say I’m at least a 9th generation Sevier Countian. (I’m too lazy to do my own research, this was easily obtainable from a book my uncle had, The Reagans of Sevier County). I like to think being southern automatically instills a love of the Lord, an appreciation for hard work, graciousness, and a responsibility to protect our land. And like I once told Lisa, “I don’t eat bagels and cream cheese, I eat biscuits and butter!!” Flavorless, hard bagels *shaking my head*
• My faith. When I don’t have anything else, I have Him. I love it when we pray before meals as a group. I love it when people aren’t nervous about sharing their faith.
• Chester. This dog, y’all. I really don’t know what I’d do without him. He is so sweet, so smart, so funny, so soft. I don’t want to do life without a dog. He makes me smile and he gives me purpose. He’s why I want to come home every day. And really, he’s why I want to stay home once I’m here.
• My home. It’s not new, it’s not fancy, it’s not in a trendy neighborhood. But it’s mine. I don’t need new or fancy or trendy. I need a place that shelters me and where my dog can run. I need a place I can clean in a few hours. I’ve got it.
• My Aunt Bren. She’s always been understanding and nonjudgmental. She has always been up for going and doing whatever. Even though that one time I made her hike with me to the swimming hole at Rugby, she nearly died trying.
• The contacts I made through Co-op. It’s amazing the people I run into, to this day, who recognize me, and then start asking me questions, just like I still work there. It’s a testament to how much I was respected in that role. I’ve been gone over eight years. And I still say “we”.
• Untraditional love. My dad was never in the picture, but I had my Uncle Dale. I have never had a strong relationship with my mother, and I don’t have one at all now, but I had my grandmother and my aunt. I had Lisa’s mom, Megan’s mom, several other friends’ moms who taught me how to shave my legs, fry cornbread, make spaghetti sauce, and mop floors. All the things a girl needs to know. I never did conquer sewing, though. I didn’t have siblings, but for thirty years I had Lisa, who was closer than any sister. I had John ALan and my adopted brothers at Co-op. I didn’t have children, but have I ever told you about any of my dogs? I’ve not had a husband in a long time, but I have friends who help with the “man stuff”, like keeping my yard mowed, and sawing up a tree that fell, and various plumping and fence emergencies.
So I have not lived without love. I’ve just had love from other sources.
• Recognizing and having the ability to end relationships when they’ve run their course. This one is hard. But I see so many people holding on to a thread of what should be a whole rope. They think things will change. They think it will get better: that the drug addict will quit if they just love them enough, that the cheating will stop if they lose 20 pounds, that the kid will come home if they send them enough money and gifts. Sorry. You can’t change a heart. People are going to do what they want to do. It’s best just to let them do it. You’re only hurting yourself and diminishing your worth. Have some dignity. Realize you’re miserable waiting on a change that’s never coming. It’s just greater and greater disappointment.
•Creature comforts: heat and air conditioning, hot water, indoor plumbing, electricity. I really don’t want to think about chopping wood. What’s the saying? It warms you twice. Constantly having to carry it in, boil water to take a bath, carry the water back out…take a flashlight and watch for snakes in the outhouse….no. (Ps. have y’all been watching Yellowstone??? I thought I was gonna have to turn it off). •Cell phones and internet. Yes, I’ve already been thankful for social media, but this is different. Remember the days of having a house phone and your siblings or parents could pick up an extension and listen in? Or calling and having to endure the prospect that the mean older sister would have the line tied up for hours? And before caller ID. Ugh. You’d have to designate a time to be at a specified location, and BE THERE. I guess that kept us more accountable than we are today, because people are getting more lax about respecting others’ time, but back in the day, you couldn’t do that. I used to carpool with a friend to Wally High. She was perpetually late. About the third time, I left her. She thought I was late, so she sat there waiting on me until it made her even later to class. I wasn’t the slightest bit contrite when she blew into class and found me sitting there, smug.
• Hopes and dreams. Did you just laugh? Go on, laugh. There’s nothing wrong with being optimistic. Just know where the line of delusion starts. I harbor the dream of becoming rich. Not famous, mind you, I don’t care anything about that. But I’d just like to be able to buy a new set of tires and not cringe. Someday…..
• Friends who understand. Who call to check. Who will do your grocery shopping when you’ve got a bum leg. Who think of you when they have extra pie. Who don’t care to tell you they miss you and always want you to come sit in the barn hall and drink beer. Friends who are present and let you know they haven’t forgotten about you. Who want to know how you really, truly are.
• Emergency service personnel, obviously including dispatchers and hospital workers, and pharmacists, too. Especially today. I used to volunteer to work dispatch, because I didn’t have the nuclear family like most of my coworkers did. Plus, it paid double time and a half. But seriously. Think about those who shared cold turkey, standing up, charting, between calls. Holidays are always busy. Too much togetherness, then overindulgence, then the blood pressure gets up…it’s all downhill from there. A recipe for disaster.
• Our military. Thank God they are willing to fight. Thank God they still believe in this country.
• My coworkers. I’ve worked with some really awful people in this job, but the ones I have now are the very best. Except Jake, he’s barely mediocre, but I can look over him most of the time. I’ll even count Charlie, our landlord, in on this. He’s absolutely wonderful. He’s never failed to answer the phone when I call, and that’s a feat in itself. And if there’s a problem, yo, he solves it.
• Iron will to survive and a lack of fear. I know several people, not old people, who won’t drive on the interstate. Cynthia said the second time she was ever around me: “I can tell you ain’t scared of nothing.” I was just backing into a parking spot at Mayfield Dairy and I turned to her, incredulous. “What is there to be scared of?” I’d still like to know. They can’t take away your birthday.
• Unanswered prayers, and answered ones, too. Usually these take awhile to recover from the heartache, but eventually you’ll see it all worked out like it was supposed to. It’s hard not getting what you want (I’m an only child, so you can imagine how well I take being turned down). But it strengthens our faith.
• My reliable, fast, pretty car. This is hard to admit, because I still miss Patsy every day. I welled up today when my cousin Michael asked if I still had her. But Maggie is pretty sweet. She just ain’t hard core. I don’t feel invincible, but I reckon I can outrun most anything, so that’s not to be discounted.
• The availability of my favorite foods, Little Debbie Christmas Trees notwithstanding. At least there’s the Valentine hearts to buy me a little more time. But seriously, if I want good fish, I can go to Chesapeake’s. If I want a great burger, I can go to Fuddruckers. If I want excellent fried taters, I can go to my cast iron skillet. Plenty of countries, heck, plenty of neighboring counties don’t have that luxury.
• Music for any mood. Ahhh, Spotify. Pandora had the right idea. Where they went wrong was not letting us build our own playlists. I like all kinds of music. I can go from Frank Sinatra to Led Zeppelin to George Strait to Dr Dre. Try me.
• My overall good health. I’m telling you, when I was down a leg it really exemplified what a wuss I am, and how sorry I’d be if I were handicapped. I stay pretty healthy overall. I think I may have had Covid once. I don’t know, I didn’t test. I just had a fever for a day or two. But that feels like quite the accomplishment. And good thing, since Chester is many things, but nurse he is not. And good patient, I am not.
• Being busy and having things to look forward to. Like my routine I mentioned earlier, staying busy is a blessing. Keep your mind and body running so when you lay down to sleep you can rest. Sometimes being busy is just losing myself in a book. Or weeding a flowerbed. But it’s better than staring at the walls wondering where on the trajectory I went so wrong. Best to just go on.
• My experiences and travels. I must admit I’ve lived. I’ve certainly made my share of mistakes, but quitting Co-op to travel is not one of them. There are things I wish I had done different, even today, but I’m still standing. And there’s a reason we go through it all. Sometimes it’s so we can help a friend through a similar experience on down the road.
• My glasses. Oh my. Since 5th grade I have been hugely reliant on corrective lenses. They cured my migraines and they keep me from tripping. For the most part, anyway.
• The ability to walk in high heels. So sure, this sounds shallow and flippant, but it’s true. Have I told y’all the story of the hooker heels in the bus with pizza boxes on my head? Nobody will make that bet again. I hate to see women trying to pull off some elegant stiletto and can’t extend their leg, they go creeping along, bent at the knee for fear of losing their balance. It makes the whole ensemble ugly.
• That I can take days off without having to clear it six months ahead of time, or make sure someone can cover my shift. I had a job like that, and lemme tell you, it’s dumb. You felt like you needed a court order to go to routine doctor’s visit or funeral.
• My job in general. I really love it. I like knowing nearly everybody that walks through the door. My board is great. Holidays and weekends off are a definite plus. The county clinic saves me a ton on prescriptions and doctor visits.
• Places to shop. When I was in Crossville recently, I was astounded by the lack of things to do and places to eat. I could have driven on into Cookeville, but it was inconceivable to me there weren’t any fun things to see and do within a ten-minute radius. Even Seymour offers a multitude of Mexican restaurants and a few cute shops. I am spoiled living in Sevier County and having so many choices.
• My uncle. Even though he’s gone now, I’m still thankful he was around as long as he was and he taught me a huge variety of life lessons. He truly cared about bringing me up to be well-rounded and able to make conversation with anybody, and to be able to separate the wheat from the chaff.
• KUB. They’re pretty quick about getting power restored here. Some people aren’t so fortunate. They were good to me when my grandmother died, too, first offering condolences, then making the billing transition relatively painless, unlike Knox Chapman Water. Don’t even get me started on that bunch of CROOKS. Yes, that was 2008, but you don’t forget a kindness in the wake of a death.
• Makeup to cover my skin deep flaws. It’s a good thing I’m not a boy. My head is lumpy, so I’d have to keep my hair long, and my skin isn’t smooth and blemish free, so I’d have to keep a beard. I’m thankful makeup is available to even me out.
• The ability to swim. That was another lesson I was enrolled in as a child, and I’m grateful for them. I can’t do a breaststroke or anything formal, but I can float for hours on end, so I reckon that would serve well enough to keep me from drowing. I have a healthy respect for the ocean. While I frequently go out above my head in the Gulf, I only got shin deep at Outer Banks. That water was ROUGH.
• My gift of gab and way with words. It’s no use denying it. Y’all frequently remind me. It is a gift, and I will own it. Although I’ve blathered on here tonight. I haven’t spun a good story in some time, but I’m still trying. I think I need to get out more. And take my laptop.
• Our roads. If you’ve ever traveled through Texas, you know what I mean. Yes, it seems like it takes forever to revamp lanes. South of Houston, on 45, they’ve been “working” for over 20 years, according to several locals. Sure, we have potholes. We don’t have CRATERS. We even usually have road signs and stoplights, wonder of wonders. Travel a little. It’ll make you grateful for TDOT and SEvier County Highway Department.
• Atchley Funeral Home. If you’ve ever lost someone close to you and have to plan a funeral, you know what I mean. They don’t come no better. They match personalities and are uwaveringly professional.
• Alcohol. I mean, sometimes Mountain Dew just don’t cut it.
• My washing machine and dryer. Dear Lord, please let them last another 20 years, or at least till manufacturers see the error of their ways with whatever that waterless technology they’ve been pushing for a decade or so. Sometimes I think it’d be nice to have a clothesline for my sheets, but lets be honest: I’d end up somehow dragging them through the dirt or not notice the waspers hanging out on them and then climb in bed with that. I’ll stick to tumble dry low, thanks.
• My bed. I slept in a twin size bed until I moved out the first time, and then it was a queen. There is nothing like a King size bed. I can’t do anything smaller now. I’m gonna need a mattress before long, but I do love my bed. And Chester does, too.
• Lastly, all of you. For your encouragement and compliments and requests that I come back. I know I’ve been negligent about keeping up with this lately, and I have nothing to say for myself apart from I’m lazy. There have been days I truly haven’t had time, but plenty more where I simply didn’t MAKE time. Thank you for reading, and for understanding as I work through this journaling phase. I can’t seem to break my rut. I WANT to write about feelings, but it still feels a little dangerous to go down those avenues. I’ll find new subject matter soon enough, I hope. I might start interviewing random people and getting their stories. I don’t know, but I need to do better at entertaining.

My life isn’t anything like I thought it would be. It does no good to compare your life to anybody else’s; we’ve all got troubles and very few people put them on display. So their life may look perfect, but I guarantee it ain’t. Please stop looking back and counting your losses. I know it’s easy to do around the holidays. But you’re much better off counting your blessings. And if you’re not happy, then by all means, make an effort to change.

I heard once what if you woke up tomorrow and only had the things you were thankful for today?

I hope you all had a Thanksgiving full of love and good food and fellowship. I hope nobody had to call an ambulance…or the law. I hope we can all see we’re so much more fortunate than so many others and that we never take a minute for granted.
You get one life.
Make it count.