Those Things We Are Thankful For Most

I only added the word most in order not to end the title with a preposition.

Anyway, On Facebook, where many of you are members thereof, some kind soul started a countdown to Thanksgiving Day. By starting on November first, find something to be thankful for each day. One was to post what that was each day on their wall.

I decided that was an excellent exercise in really thinking about the good in my life, so I did it this year.

Daughter has done it before this year, as have many others.

So, much to my surprise, the thing I was most thankful for come the Big Day, was when Great-Nephew (age 2) peed on Husband (age 64).

Why, you may ask, was I most thankful for that?

It made us all laugh. Well, maybe not Great-Nephew, he was just rushed off to the bathroom for dry clothes.

Great-Nephew was snuggling on the couch with Husband, busily spelling words (like intelligence) and then using it in a sentence. This exercise is an app. on his mama's telephone. This is done by a two year old with a paci in his mouth, who as I said earlier, isn't quite one hundred percent on his potty training.

But he was so comfy cuddling and sharing with Husband, he waited too long to start yelling, "Tee tee! Tee tee! Uh-oh! Oh no!"

He can perform word exercises on the phone app. better than he can spew it back out. After all, he's only two. I get about every third word he says.

But laughter, innocence, family gathering - isn't that what thankfulness is all about?

Brother of Many Surgeries could have easily not been with us. Last week it was determined he wouldn't be well enough, but then, lo and behold, he was. Breathing heavy, showing his scar because he had twenty-five of his zillion staples removed Tuesday (and a drain tube).

Who wouldn't be proud?

And Mother. She is eighty-four years old with a lot of physical problems. (Duh). Not sick, just aches and pains that are hard on her.

Thankful? You bet.

For babies that make us laugh (even though Husband left early very suddenly), for brothers that make it through yet another surgery, for mothers who may be elderly but are still hanging around for another season.

And you.

I'm thankful for you.

Brotherly Love

I just got back from visiting Brother of Many Surgeries. (This is his Indian  name now.)

He looks like a one track railroad from stern to down below where he wouldn't let me see. Let's just say they cut him as fer as they could cut.

The staples are starting to pull at his skin, the drain holes are pulling at his skin. He is very uncomfortable.

Plus he is having wild body temperature changes, one minute burning up, the next freezing.

Do you suppose they took so much out this time he is in  menopause? 

Nah.

I am being silly because I am tired of being afraid.

Afraid that this time, he might not make it.

But he did, and I hope fervently it is the last surgery he ever has to have. I hope he can live many years and be healthy, finally.

I am so confident I made a batch of spaghetti and took it to them for supper.

If my cookin' don't kill him, nothin' will.