Yesterday was beautiful. Silver and I drove a loop through the mountains in the early evening to soak up the golden oranges and vibrant reds amidst the dark pines. We pulled over to hike for a couple miles, face-to-face with these leaves while I wore our baby around my front, holding, hugging, cuddling, giggling with her as we walked.
We came home and grilled delicious asiago, garlic, green onion, bacon burgers for dinner.
Darkness fell, and I strapped my little darling around me again, made a decaf raspberry latte, and her and I went for a stroll around our neighborhood. We stopped at the overlook and gazed over our city admiring the lights. I sat in the grass, sipped my latte, enjoyed the warm autumn breeze. My baby girl got out and played in her magical little baby land, exploring the acorns and fallen leaves around her.
I started to whisper, “Thank you,” and I realized I had nobody to thank. But feeling overwhelmed with gratefulness, I felt compelled to say thank you. The universe? That’s silly and just transfers my need for a sentience beyond myself from my idea of God to some personalized fate. But I have a deep need to thank someone. Who do I thank now?