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Here we sit halfway through November. I can think of many years in my life where I sat here in the last little bit very much the same as I started the first. The same day to day, the same things to look forward to, to occupy my mind. It was always an illusion, of course. Most of my life I’ve been Mr. Magoo out for a Sunday drive. Still, even though those broad swaths of stability and sameness were built on sand I never acknowledged, they held. The first time the illusion came home to me, it had nothing to do with my own life. It was a family in town who took a wonderful vacation with their two healthy girls one spring, and by January, one of those girls was taken by cancer. That was when I started to consciously feel gratitude for the uneventful days in life. Every night I laid my head down on my wonderful pillow in my wonderful bed in my cozy house with every one in my family alive and well, I have been profoundly grateful. I think what changed when my girls left the nest was that I had to start taking my own dreams and fancies a little more seriously. I have things I want to do. Too many, really, and this has a natural side effect of looking ahead and accidentally (for I’ve never been one to do this on purpose if I could help it) set goals. They’re watery and wavering as anything purely for me must always be, but they are there, ready and waiting to gain weight and solidity when they are not met. So here we sit. I learned this year to lay my head down and be grateful for less. I learned to function, though sometimes very poorly, with a whole new level of heartbreak and anxiety. I met some regrets I didn’t realize were waiting for introduction, and learned to make room for them on the bench. The watery and wavering goals designed to confirm and validate my aliveness, give me purpose and feed my soul sank deeper, became even less defined and, honestly, less important as aliveness lost a lot of its appeal. A few weeks ago, they began to drift their way back a bit closer to the surface, but they find me changed. Again. Always. Ever, it seems. I love them no less, desire them no less, and limp my way along in their direction as I can. Right now, they don’t feed my soul like they did, as my soul still lacks appetite, but they afford it a nibble here and there where it has the gumption to reach for one. That’s enough. It may yet change for better, just as likely to change for worse. I’ll meet it as it comes. But what has stuck through it all is that gratitude for less, so the nibbles may be small, but they taste delicious. It is a relief to be able to taste them at all.