a thanksgiving

To everyone who canceled their travel plans and multi-household family meal, thank you.

To everyone who will spend this day alone.

To everyone who will go without food.

To everyone working in soup kitchens and food pantries, and everyone who will visit one.

To everyone who will spend this day working in packed ERs and full ICUs.

To everyone grieving.

To Indigenous people for whom this holiday is a wound.

To those who don’t celebrate this holiday or any other with their families because they have been cast out simply because of who they are.

To those who don’t spend this day with their families because they have to work in food service or retail.

To first responders.

To the un-homed.

To those who sleep on the floor of animal shelters so the dogs and cats will not be afraid.

To the children who do not sleep because they are afraid.

To everyone crying out for help.

To everyone who is unsure, afraid, or exhausted.

To everyone who feels as thin as a sheet of onionskin, ready to blow away in the wind.

To everyone who struggles with anxiety or depression.

To everyone who feels elated for no apparent reason.

To everyone who will light a candle, roast a squash, burn a fire, watch a movie.

To everyone who will laugh today and everyone who will cry.

To everyone, everyone, everyone…

I see you.

I’m grateful for you.

There is a light that shines around you and through you.

Thank you for being here, on this earth, in this body.

Thank you to everyone who is here right now, reading these words, checking in with me.

I’m checking in with you.

I’m saying hello and Peace be with you.

I’m saying I love you.

I’m grateful you’re alive.

I’m grateful we’re alive together.