Is there a word for actively making gratitude? Giving thanks seems too weak. I mean chasing down the thing you’re grateful for in your mind and staring down the idea of living without it and feeling so relieved you don’t have to actually live that way you can feel it all through your body.
This afternoon you were sleeping in our bed. Your brother and dad had gone off swimming, and I was resisting joining you, even though I needed a nap. The house was just so peaceful, it was tempting to stay up and do something all by myself. In quiet. But then you stirred and I panicked that you might have a short nap and I would miss my opportunity to sleep entirely. So I lay down beside you and just watched you breathe. The bruise on your forehead was faded to yellow. And I thought about that time last week when I thought you were dead while I dialled 9-1-1. You went so still, and while I thought you were dead, I also couldn’t believe it. You were just alive, a minute ago; you couldn’t possibly be dead. But that’s how it is with life and death, isn’t it? One minute it’s there and the next it’s gone. I didn’t want to look; I figured let the paramedics tell me when they arrived.
So today, I watched you breathe, in and out in and out. Totally fine. And I am grateful. More than grateful.