It’s pretty easy for me to think of all the things for which I am grateful. I do it every day before I haul my bootie from my delicious flannel-sheeted bed.
Though I realized today, with an electric little startle, that I have evolved into a Very Single Person, despite whatever romance may be taking center stage. People see me that way. At least five of my dearest friends invited me to Thanksgiving because they know I will not be entertaining my own family, who are far flung into the corners of the United States, and that I certainly don’t have the In-Laws issue or the “kids want to do it this way” thing. I get seasick watching my 401 (k) and Roth IRA swan dive and leap up daily, because I’m not counting on someone to pad that shared bank account with his pension pennies. I don’t have to put up with anyone else’s nautical art or boxes of old photographs or crappy furniture with high sentimental value because it is MY HOUSE. All mine.
I think, at 40licious, I am finally comfortable with that, with what I have become, with the idea that it doesn’t have to be more complicated than this.
So with a happy, full heart, I will finish my whipped yams with homemade marshmallows in orange cups, put on a smear of makeup and my sassiest boots, and head out to Don and Adam’s for my Thanksgiving dinner.
Oh, and by the way, thank you for reading.