It is a summer night in August, but it’s my own personal Thanksgiving.

I am four days post-surgery, tired, sore, and just generally wiped-out.

I am thankful for all the activity that has gone on around me since my return home to keep the house running smooth, to see to my needs, to make my world comfortable and manageable.

George and Rebecca have been with me every step of the way. I am thankful that George was with me seconds after I hit the bathroom floor. I am thankful that Rebecca packed up her car and drove up from North Carolina as soon as she heard of my mishap. I am thankful that Garrett drove down from Buffalo Friday night to be by my bedside when they moved me down to the second floor, when I needed his sense of humor, then filled the house with good food since he knew that I wouldn’t be shopping. I am thankful that Morgan is a phone call away, has the most reassuring voice, and leaves me with the sense that all will be okay.

The dishes here are washed, the clothes are clean, the floors are swept, the pets are cared for, the house is in good order, my needs are met, I need only ask. I could list a thousand little things that have been done for me that have meant so much. I love my family. Life is good.