A continuation of my Gratitude page. Most of this was originally written in 2004. And I’m just as grateful, if not more, today.
To my sweet baby, H. I love being your mom and I love watching you grow into yourself every day. I can’t wait to see what kind of little girl, young lady, grown woman you become. You make me smile every day.
To my hubbalicious. You know I love you and you never ask why. That’s one way we’re not alike. You love me with all of my neuroses (three!) and you know that if it weren’t for me, you’d be eating a bag of chips every night for dinner with your cat. You make me feel smart and beautiful and you don’t mind when I sing in the car.
To my brother. You are my inspiration. I’m awed by the courage you have to do what you love, and awed by your book collection. You take me seriously and take interest. You love your niece more than I could have imagined you ever would. We’re more alike than I ever thought possible when we were growing up, you spitting on me and me tattling on you.
To xoro. You and my brother were meant to be together and you’re meant to be in our family. I never wanted a sister, but if I did, I’m glad it’s you. And, I love how your love of gifts makes you glow.
To W.C. Our friendship has grown deeper and deeper each passing year, even when life and work and kids get in the way of us connecting. My life is only better because of you.
To my Niffer. You are one of my bestest friends and I miss that we don’t see each other every day like we used to. I can’t believe that more time has passed that we have been friends apart than the entire time we were friends and neighbors. How is it that both spa-days and dried beans and cheese in a pot make me think of you?
To my twin, Lu. Your coming to our wedding means so much to me. I was so happy to see you there.
To Marla Okrant. You and your family welcomed us without hesitation and I felt at home from the moment we met.
To Mark Okrant. I want to be a witty professor and writer just like you; very unique, even.
To Laura. You teach me how to be a better parent. You are the friend I always end up talking to for an hour more than anticipated, and that’s after we spent the whole day together. We’ll find our way someday.
To Sara. How we never met until we both ended up working in the same place astounds me. Who needs a therapist when we’ve got a friendship like ours? Your encouragement makes me wonder what you see in me, and I’m thankful for it anyway.
To Debb. We’ve come a long way since the dawn-before-Robbins’-paper-is-due-rant. I know you know I love being a part of your boring life.
To Madame Bertaud. You’re the only teacher who told me grades don’t matter. If only I could have believed you in high school, and not so much in college. I think I found the right balance in grad school, and will try to remember that when my own kids are in school. I’m glad you never laugh or roll your eyes at my Franglais.
To my rent-a-husband. You’re not so bad for a rental. I love that you make me laugh, especially if it’s while I have a mouth full of food. I love that my husband loves the concept of me having a rent-a-husband. Bring on the ballet and tennis.
To Mikey. You’re the reason I didn’t leave Bradley freshman year. You’re the reason I met Jason and all of the other guys. You gave me Nyquil and it made you laugh.
To my writing buddy, Jon. Hey look… I’m writing. I love that we get into heated discussions about everything when we’re always both on the same side of every issue we discuss.
To Meghan. It scared me to talk to you about your cancer and I thank you for talking to me when I finally did ask. I’m thankful for you and wonder about your thoughts on life and motherhood and if you were scared to die before your boys. I think of you often and hope your recovery is a journey that doesn’t end.
To my therapist. I’m glad I’m the healthiest neurotic you know. You’ve helped me realize that I have strength and motivation; it just takes a Zoloft kick in the pants for me to find it.
To the volunteer ladies at the I.W.I.N. Foundation flower pick up. You made me smile and I hope to have the happiness you exude when I’m a grandmother someday.
To Sarah Harris. I think of you and your family and the loss of your sister often. I know you’re patiently waiting the lesson, and I hope it comes to you soon. You have such a great heart and I’m glad to know you beyond work meetings and textbooks.