This was the scene of our Christmas Eve meal. My mom and grandmother (aka “Nanny”) came over and helped us dine on Hubs’ fried chicken (don’t worry, I’ll get you the recipe; chicken this good should be shared with the world), mashed potatoes, collards, and biscuits. Served alongside sweet tea and sparkling juice (Mom is crazy about the stuff, while Nanny was triple-fisting it with a sweet tea/sparkling juice/buttermilk trifecta-wild times, I know), it was a perfect southern holiday repast.
And while it’s the first of February and Christmas Eve ’10 is over a month passed, I’ve been thinking today about just how thankful I am for that meal. I’m thankful to live where nutritious, healthy, delicious food is easy to come by. I’m thankful to live in a place and during a time of such profound abundance. I’m thankful to be at a place in my life where I can realize that abundance, to marvel at it, and to swim in gratitude for it.
Abundance and gratitude have been on my mind a good deal lately, as you might have noticed. Maybe it’s because we have a beautiful baby who brings us immeasurable joy. Maybe it’s because the birth was so crazy and I now feel so revitalized and happy and strong and capable. Maybe it’s because I have two new books publishing next month while having the good fortune to be working on a fifth.
Or, maybe it’s because, as I age, I’m more easily satisfied with the simplest of things. A hot mug of coffee. An evocative, transportive, foggy, drizzly day. A roaring wood stove. A fleet of happy cats and faithful, protective dogs. A loving spouse (who, incidentally, is deep in the throes of the “man cold,” poor lamb) who is my constant companion. A hot bath with the baby.
I couldn’t possibly want for more.