There is something heart-warming about a letter in the mail. No, not those kinds that deflect their cowardice on you for some sort of self-importance. (Yes, you. I’m talking to you. You’re on my blog. Happy much?) Going back to the part about the letter in the mail. I use email quite a bit, and I have correspondences with some very wonderful people. They write to me and I write back. F says that the art of letter writing is lost. When I receive mails from some people across the globe, and even across my city, I am reminded that only the medium has changed. Words will still be words. After all, not everyone can store letters. Some of them get lost in journeys, and some get downed in flames. It’s pretty much a sorry state, actually.

Among other things, the letter in the mail that came today invited me over to a house I know that is always open for me in one part of the globe. The visit will be planned with assiduity come 2015, but the fact that I know that there’s a running track around a pond waiting for me along with some fantastic company makes me very happy. It’s Thanksgiving today, and like every year, I’ve observed it. (Last year’s poem to say thanks is here.) I think it’s a fantastic festival in its intent. How many of us say thanks for what we have? When I have a family of my own, we’re going to do this every year. Not much –  just sitting around whatever little food we may have and saying thanks for all those small blessings that we have been bestowed. After two years, K and I have been able to celebrate Thanksgiving together, again. However, we did a lunch, instead of a dinner. (Again, as usual.) And yes, we finished it off with ice-cream. On the lunch table, we didn’t talk shop, rather we exchanged stories with company that we didn’t invite. It was a very interesting lunch, and I met someone who had actually driven a train and is now a head honcho of a corporate company. I told him that one of the characters in my script (that I am writing with someone else) also wants to drive a train.

Yesterday was so beautiful that I bought red carnations for friends this morning because the glee just spread over. And then, someone told me it is Thanksgiving. Apart from invitations to homes tucked in distant lands, red carnations, chocolate chip cookies brought for me, there’s much to be thankful about. I find that gratitude is the best kind of prayer. Especially considering that I’ve lived so far, so long on Ayat-ul-Kursi, Serenity prayer, and even the Lord’s prayer, and even those spread thin over a long period of time. I am thankful for family, foster family, and friends, but two days ago I realized how thankful I am to have been kept safe at the cost of some extreme heartbreak. I am thankful for the Universe, for the feeling that someone/something out there is taking care of me. Someone is watching over me and however angry I may be at that Supreme being, I won’t be let go. I am thankful that there is a force which is pulling me in a direction that’s better for me. I am thankful for that safety net which gives me the illusion that I’ve fallen when I just might have been saved.

I’m thankful for all this, and of course for all those little things that friends and family do. For health, because my doctor said I am not suffering from a life-threatening disease. However, Boy says that I have ‘life’ and that’s life-threatening itself. Trust him and N to put things into perspective. It’s been a fantastic year so far, and I have been loved so much that I could wrap myself inside it and there’d still be so much left.

Above all, I am thankful for words, because they’ve loved me and I’ve loved them even when love seemed scarce and hope was faint.

“If you are really thankful, what do you do? You share.” — W. Clement Stone


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