Breakfast in bed and it's raining on Turkey day.

right now i am overwhelmed with gratitude for the abundance of good in my life. as i sit here snuggled up in bed with a down quilt on my lap, hot tea and oatmeal steaming beside me, and a small slice of pumpkin pie waiting patiently for me, i feel tingles through the tips of my fingers and toes from something called love. this gratitude is so thick i can sink my teeth into it, savoring the soft texture of it as it slides down my throat to soothe my very soul.

i didn't fly home for thanksgiving this year. or last year. or the year before that. every year since i have been living in san diego i decide to stay out of pure angst over braving the airport during the most heinous of all traveling weekends. i do so knowing that i am trading a warm house filled with dozens of family members and enough food to feed a small yet very hungry army, for the quiet and peace and simplicity of a thanksgiving alone. two years ago i spent the holiday in tents and canoes in the black river canyon, soaking in hot springs under an inky night sky. last year it was me and a few friends stuffing ourselves silly with wine and the full feast that we prepared for ourselves. this year, it's different yet again.

it's just me and franco here in san diego. all my friends have left for family or friends in the far reaches of the country. we're going to a local deli that serves the traditional feast all day long and then we're going to hunker down and watch football and holiday movies beneath blankets and a shroud of food-coma happiness. i am grateful for the peace and quiet of today, and for the knowledge that my family is safe and happy and healthy, and for the love of an incredible man to buouy me throughout my days. franco just called me into the living room to gaze upon the rainbow spreading beneath the clouds across the canyon valley. it's not a site often seen here in the desert; i'm happy to accept it as a special gift and a reminder of the good in life.